


How the Story Goes

by FrankTheSnek



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - First Meeting, Anal Sex, Betaed, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Falling In Love, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Happy Ending, M/M, Making Out, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sentient Atlantis, amputee characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-15 12:54:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 33,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28938822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrankTheSnek/pseuds/FrankTheSnek
Summary: John is a retired veteran struggling with the trauma from his time in service. When recruited to join the Stargate program he is hesitant but one Rodney McKay manages to convince him.In their efforts to find Atlantis use of the control chair does not go as planed and John must overcome the haunting memories of his past to help find the lost city.Can his budding friendship with Rodney help him on this journey? Could that friendship become something more?**See author's notes for information about tags and rating**
Relationships: Rodney McKay/John Sheppard
Comments: 49
Kudos: 122





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Notes on tags and rating**  
> I tagged this with everything that will apply to the story as a whole so that as readers you could know exactly what you are getting into. The more graphic tags will not come into play until the story rating increases to the appropriate level. Which brings me to the second point, the rating will be going up as the story progresses. 
> 
> I’ve had this idea rolling around my head for over a year but every time I thought about writing it I got intimidated because I knew it would be a long story. I finally decided to just write out a couple scenes to give it a try and could not stop once I started! I was so in love with this story while writing it, and I really hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it. 
> 
> This story has been completed and chapters will be posted on a regular basis, either weekly or bi weekly! Tremendous thank you to [Ani272](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ani272/pseuds/Ani272) for beta/proof reading this for me in such a timely manner. You are awesome!

Rodney couldn't help but grin as he made his way to the senior staff meeting. Entering the conference room, he took his seat next to Daniel and waited for his turn to speak. Normally he hated the quarterly meetings they had to fly out to McMurdo for, but this time he was more than happy to attend. Rodney paid little attention to what the others were saying, practically vibrating in his seat, as he waited his turn. What they had didn't matter. What _he_ had—well, what he had could change the Atlantis program in ways they had only been dreaming of.

What he had, was a ticket to finding the lost city.

"Dr. McKay, what updates do you have on Ancient technology?" General Hammond was asking him. _Finally._

Rodney anxiously drummed his fingers over the manilla folder he had laid on the table. "Nothing of great consequence. We are about the same as we have been. We have deciphered a few schematics that might be useful, if we ever make it to Atlantis." He paused, taking a deep breath, and collecting his thoughts on what he did have. "However, I believe I have found the answer to our problems in that regard."

"What do you mean?" Elizabeth asked, hands folded neatly and tightly in front of her. She looked Rodney over with an expression of calculation and curiosity.

"Well, as we all know, the one thing that is hindering us the most in our progress, is a lack of people with the ATA gene. I realized that we have an entire bank of potential gene carriers that we haven't even looked at." He paused, stealing himself, because he knew pushback was coming. 

"The US military. We have DNA samples on file from hundreds, _thousands_ , of enlisted peoples. This is a resource we have been stupid not to take advantage of. So, I took the liberty of designing a program that would run a screening for the ATA gene against all the military personnel we have DNA samples for on file."

"You what?" Elizabeth and Carson said in unison.

"You ran diagnostics on confidential medical information?" Elizabeth questioned, sternly. "And you gained access to this information, how exactly?" She slid her eyes over to Carson, who looked just as appalled as she did.

"This is the first I'm hearing of it," the doctor defended. "And I certainly would not have given him access to it knowingly."

"Yes, well, I may have hacked a few servers to gain access to the information I needed," Rodney said casually, as if it was of no great consequence.

"Oh, and that wasn't a clue you weren't supposed to have access to it?" Carson said, indignant and angry.

"Yes, yes, confidentiality and all that. But what I found…," he tapped at his manilla folder in excitement.

"What you found, Dr. McKay, doesn't matter," Elizabeth interjected. "Regardless of what you found, it is fruit from the forbidden tree and—" Rodney flipped open the folder and slid it in front of her “—we cannot utilize...oh, my god," she drifted off, as she glanced down at the profile in the folder. 

Picking it up, she read the page presented to her quickly and precisely. "Is this correct?"

"Ran the program three times to be certain," Rodney said, very proud of himself. 

"Whatever it is, it does not matter. We cannot take advantage of information obtained in such a manner," Carson insisted. 

Elizabeth slid the file over to him. Carson glanced down at it out of reflex, and his eyes went wide. "This can't be right," he said in awe.

"According to the DNA sample we have on file, it is," Rodney declared proudly. "His presentation of the ATA gene is ten times stronger than anything we have ever seen before. We need him on board this project." 

Next to Rodney, Daniel was making grabby hands for the file. Rodney snagged it from Carson and passed it over to him. He flipped a few pages and sighed. "Did you even read any of this beyond the DNA results? He's not a soldier anymore."

"So, neither am I. Neither are you, Mr. Archeologist. The government contracts civilians all the time. No reason we can't do it with this Sheppard guy too," Rodney reasoned. So, he hadn't looked at the file in great detail, beyond the DNA results and a few broad strokes.

John Sheppard, career Air Force, pilot, retired, ATA gene super star. That was enough for Rodney.

"He was medically discharged," Daniel said pointedly, and slid the open file over to Hammond.

"So? People are medically discharged all the time. For all we know, it could have been a minor injury and he took it as an out, because his time was up," Rodney said flippantly.

General Hammond was taking his time flipping through the file and frowned as he read. "If you had actually read this, you would know that is not the case, Dr. McKay. This Sheppard saw some serious combat action. In my experience, based on this, the chances of him wanting to work with the military again are pretty slim."

"Combined with the fact that you _illegally_ obtained this information," Daniel chipped in.

"Oh, don't play like you've never bent the rules," Rodney said snidely. "Slim chance or not, and how we found out aside, we have to try, right?"

"While I am appalled with how Dr. McKay obtained the information," Carson started, "having someone with that strong a presentation of the gene, could really help me make headway in my gene therapy research." 

Elizabeth hummed and nodded, as she weighed the morality against the benefits. "We've been at a standstill for quite some time. If there is the chance this Sheppard could help us gain some ground…" she paused, then nodded.

Rodney grinned widely, knowing he had won. He turned his look to Hammond. "Well?"

The General's brow creased in a deep frown. "If you can actually convince him to work with us, I'll be amazed. Pick him up."

\-----

"That's him?" Rodney questioned, looking into the interrogation room through the two-way mirror. The man sitting across from Elizabeth looked nothing like he had expected.

Sure, there had been a picture in John’s file, but it had clearly been old. An image of a clean cut, baby-faced soldier, fresh from the academy. Rodney had done as suggested and looked over John's file more closely. After doing so, he had expected...well, he wasn't quite sure, but he felt as if someone who had been through what John had, would look a little the worse for wear. More aged or grizzled. 

The man in the interrogation room looked...well, like he belonged on a boardwalk, not in a government facility. Hair unkempt, face dark with stubble. Track pants and tight t-shirt, with a flannel button-down worn over the top, open and rolled up to the elbows. "What, did you guys just pull him off the street or something?" Rodney accused, looking over to Major Lorne.

"We gave him a few options for coming with us. He chose the one that didn't involve us throwing him in the back of a van against his will," the soldier said jokingly.

"That is not funny," Rodney said, crossing his arms and frowning. "You kidnapped him. Way to make a good first impression."

"We did not kidnap him," Lorne said, serious now. "We persuaded him to come with us—" He saw Rodney frown harder and quickly added, " _without_ the use of force."

Turning his attention back to where Elizabeth was talking with John, the scientist hummed and studied him a little more. Rodney thought he looked far to unenthused for someone who had just learned of the existence of aliens and intergalactic space technology. "How did he take the news? How long until we can go back to the outpost? Has he been medically cleared yet?"

"Considering he hasn't even signed the NDA yet and doesn't have clearance, it’s gonna be a while."

"What!" Rodney squawked, looking back at Lorne. 

"He won't sign it," the soldier said with a shrug, not taking his eyes off the two-way mirror.

"Then why is he even out here?"

"We know how bad you want this guy. Thought flying him out might be like a carrot, you know? Dangle a little intrigue and adventure in front of him."

"Oh, yes, because the ice palace of McMurdo is the picture of intrigue and adventure," Rodney snarked, arms crossed over his chest, as he glared at Lorne. 

Elizabeth left the interrogation room then, coming to join them on the viewing side. "Still no luck," she said, brow creased. "He has no interest in working with us."

"No, not good enough. He has to."

"We tried Rodney, but General Hammond was right, he doesn't want to work with the government again," she sighed heavily. "It would have been a huge chance for us if he did, but we can't force him to."

"You people and your frilly political proposals," Rodney muttered under his breath, as he shouldered past Elizabeth.

"Dr. McKay—" Lorne moved to stop him.

"No, let him try," Elizabeth said, a hand on Lorne's arm to stop him from going after Rodney. "What could we lose?"

\-----

John glanced around the interrogation room, equal parts annoyed and uncomfortable. The hard, cold chair, the obnoxious, fluorescent lights. He turned to look at the mirror. He wondered who was watching him. What kind of games were they playing with him? 

When John had been discharged, he had said ‘so long and see you never’ to the military. He had zero desire of working with them again. It wasn't their fault his chopper had gone down and he had been mangled. But regardless of who's fault it was, that didn't stop him from hating the infrastructure of it. Didn't stop the night terrors, or ghost sensations, or haunting memories that he couldn't get past.

Shaking his head, John closed his eyes and heaved out a deep breath. Just being back in a military base, surrounded by soldiers, was reopening the wounds. His hands twitched where they were gripping his biceps—arms crossed over his chest—and he just barely managed to resist the urge to reach down and rub at his left thigh.

Then the door was bursting open again. "What are you, an idiot?"

John blinked rapidly at the new intruder. He looked very agitated. Brow furrowed and mouth pinched in a sharp slant. "Well, that's quite the introduction. Bet you make friends easily," John drawled, with a tight-lipped smile. The man just looked more agitated at this, and muttered under his breath as he walked up to the table.

"Doctor Rodney McKay," he said, holding out a hand to John, face still sour.

John just looked at his hand, followed the line of his arm up to his body, and blinked at him when they made eye contact. 

Dropping his hand away, Rodney crossed his arms over his chest. "I will reiterate—what are you, an idiot?"

"No, actually, I'm not," John said, narrowing his eyes at Rodney.

"No, surprisingly, you're not," Rodney agreed, and pulled out the chair across from John. "You have a genius level IQ and passed the Mensa test with flying colors. So, I suppose the better question would be, why are you acting like an idiot when you aren't one."

"You read my file. Of course, you did. Love having people invade my personal information," John sneered. "If you read it, then you should know that I have no interest in working with the military again."

"I can understand why you would be hesitant—"

"No, Doc, you can't. You haven’t seen a day of combat in your life, so you don't understand jack shit," John said matter-of-factly. He was not about to let some soft civilian try and relate to what he had been through. What was this Rodney, a shrink or something?

"True, I haven’t. Nor do I ever want to, if we're being honest. I'm not really cut out for that type of thing," Rodney admitted. He paused, observing John for a moment, as he tried to think of a strategy. "They did tell you that you wouldn't be a soldier, right? No combat, that's not what this is about. You would be working with other civilians, like me. Research and what not."

"Yeah, they mentioned it." John shifted around in his chair a little uneasily. "Don't care." He didn't like the way Rodney was looking at him, calculating, like he was trying to find a way into his head. 

Rodney didn't say anything for a moment, just watched him, the muscles of his jaw working as he gritted his teeth in thought. John had to look away from him. There was too much intensity in those blue eyes. It was making him feel a bit stir crazy. That, and Rodney's blunt personality, were making a tiny crack of curiosity form in his shell of indifference. If they were willing to hire a guy like this—hell, if they were willing to let him do the sales pitch, how desperate were they?

"You're a nerd, a geek." The entirely random comment threw John for a loop, and he looked back to Rodney, completely puzzled. 

"Back to insults. I'm sensing a theme here," John said sarcastically.

"Not an insult. I would willingly refer to myself with the same nomenclature." Rodney shrugged a little and leaned back in his chair, looking far more casual than he had a moment ago. Some of his agitation had melted away, and it made John nervous because that meant the other man was confident, he had figured out a way to get to John. "And it's a fact that you are one. You wouldn't own and operate a Sci-fi and comic book shop if you weren't." 

John cocked his head to the side, still confused by the direction the conversation had taken. "I fail to see how my job has anything to do with what we are doing here."

"It has everything to do with what you are doing here," Rodney said, locking eyes with John. "We are offering you the opportunity to take fantasy and turn it into reality." John's eyes widened a little at that, and he held Rodney's gaze.

"Oh, really?" He smirked, still trying to play sarcastic and disinterested. Rodney's mouth twitched up in a way that told John he wasn't buying it. He knew he had hooked John's interest.

"Oh, really. Hypothetically?" Rodney paused, and glanced over his shoulder towards the two-way mirror, then looked back to John. "Think of the best Sci-fi scenario you can and make it even better. Space travel, war of the worlds, new frontiers."

"Hypothetically?" John questioned, cocking an eyebrow. Rodney hummed, and there was a knock from the other side of the mirror.

"That would be them telling me I am dangerously toeing the line of what I can and can't tell you." Rodney sat up straight again and leaned in towards John a little. He picked up the NDA which John had carelessly slid away from himself earlier. "Want to find out how the story goes?" Rodney slid the NDA back across the table to John.

John looked down at it and back up at Rodney, whose chin was held high, nostrils flaring, exuding confidence to cover the nerves John could still see peeking out under the bravado. It made John very curious. What did they—did this man—have to offer that was so important? But still... "I'm not a soldier anymore."

"We don't need soldiers. We have plenty of those. What we need is _you_."

That only increased John's curiosity and he hated Rodney for it. Why him? He was broken and damaged. He wasn't the man he had been three years ago. The Air Force had barely wanted him then, why would they want him now. "I would be a civilian?" Rodney nodded. "I would be working with other civilians?" Another nod. 

Picking up the pen from the table, John clicked it several times, staring down at the document in front of him. He heaved a heavy sigh, before flipping it open and putting pen to paper.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story has been completed and chapters will be posted on a regular basis, either weekly or bi weekly! Tremendous thank you to [Ani272](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ani272/pseuds/Ani272) for beta/proof reading this for me in such a timely manner. You are awesome!

After John had signed away his name, Rodney had been hustled out and Dr. Weir had come back in. John had been sad to see the other man go. Rodney was the one who had baited him. John had been hoping the other man would be the one to tell him what he had just agreed to. That disappointment had been forgotten rather quickly, as he was given a crash course in what the Stargate program was. Stargates, and Ancients, and lost cities! Oh, my!

John's mind was buzzing and foggy, as he was escorted down the hall by a couple of soldiers. He was so lost in trying to sort through everything he had just learned, that he was oblivious to where they were actually going. It wasn't until a door opened to reveal the stark white and sterile smell of the infirmary, that John realized they had said something about medical clearance. 

"Mr. Sheppard." John turned at the sound of his name to find a man in a lab coat smiling pleasantly at him. "Dr. Carson Beckett. I'll be giving you the once over to make sure you are all squared away." He held out his hand and John took it, shaking it firmly. 

"No Dr. McKay?" John questioned, still a little disappointed with not seeing the other man.

Carson gave a brief but genuine laugh. "Lord, no! He's not an MD. Dr. McKay is a PhD. He heads up our research and development department. This way, please," Carson said, directing John with a hand on his shoulder. John nodded as he walked with Carson.

"I can imagine you are a bit sick of hospitals. I know you've had more that your fair share of stays. This is all just standard procedure, so I will try to make it quick." The doctor spoke as he led them into a little cubical of curtains. He drew them closed and patted a little metal table that had some kind of odd metal ring on one end. It reminded John of an MRI machine, but skinned down to the bones. 

"Don’t remember them having anything like that, last time I was in the hospital," John said, as he noticed the monitors around them, which also looked far more high tech than he had seen before.

"Aye, that’s Ancient technology. They had some marvelous medical equipment. We've managed to salvage a fair bit of it from the outpost and integrate it with ours." As he explained, Carson placed his stethoscope in his ears and held the diaphragm to John's back. The soldier knew the drill and stopped talking, taking deep, even breaths. After a moment, Carson removed it and went to tap one of the monitors.

"Outpost?" John questioned.

"Yes, that's where you will be working, along with Dr. McKay, myself, and most of the other contracted civilians. It's a way out into the arctic, quite isolated, hence wanting to make sure you’re fit before heading out." Carson went to the ring at the end of the table and tapped at a few things on it. "This scanner will give you a quick look. Then I just need some blood samples, and you should be good to go, as long as nothing comes up."

"Okay, so, just lay down?" John asked, already shifting his good leg onto the table.

Carson nodded, humming. "I am afraid I'll have to ask you to remove your prosthesis. The metals can interfere with the readings."

John looked at him for a moment, shifting around a bit uneasily. "You've been working with the military for a while?"

Carson nodded. "Seen a fair share of combat wounded."

John nodded and reached down to pop open the snaps along the leg of his track pants. Carson turned and busied himself with one of the monitors, but John got the feeling it was out of courtesy, not because he had something to do there. Either way, John was grateful. Three years without his leg, and other people seeing him without the prosthesis still made John uncomfortable. 

Unfastening it, he gently leaned his prosthesis against the table adjacent to the scanner. Giving into the urge of the phantom tingle, John reached down and stroked over his thigh. Breathing out deeply he looked down at his stump, firmly reminding himself he had no leg below his thigh. It was his mind playing tricks. 

Situating himself on the table, he cleared his throat. "Uh, ok, now what?"

Carson turned back to him and went to hit a few buttons on the ring console. "Just stay still. It will only take a moment." John nodded, and then the machine was humming around him. The ring moved up the table, little green lights dancing across his body, as it took readings. It moved over him twice, then settled at the foot of the table where it had started.

"That's it?" John questioned, a little stunned by the efficiency of it.

"Aye, you can sit up now. I'll just get some blood from you." Carson pulled a little tray over with phlebotomy supplies. John held out his arm and didn't flinch, as Carson stuck him and drew his samples.

Setting the blood tubes aside, Carson looked down at John’s thigh. "May I?"

John hesitated for a moment before nodding, and reached down to remove the silicon sleeve covering the residual limb.

"Do you have any residual pain? Phantom sensations?" Carson asked, touching the scar along the end of it gently, then palpating up the muscles of John's thigh. 

"Nerve pain comes and goes. And, yeah...phantom sensations are still pretty bad," John admitted, watching Carson's hands on him.

"Are you on any medication for the nerve pain?" the doctor asked, removing his hands, and looking up at John.

"Gabapentin," John answered, and rubbed at his thigh, firmly. "Didn't have it on me when they brought me here. Haven’t had any in almost 72 hours."

Carson nodded, frowning a little. "I'll get you a dose and I'll fill a prescription for you."

"I appreciate it, thanks." 

"All right, I'll be back shortly." With that, Carson took his leave.

John sat there, looking down at his thigh for a moment, before rolling the sleeve back over it. He looked at the screen where the results from his scan were displayed. It was very strange to think that his DNA was alien. He didn't feel special. Didn't look any different than the next guy. But apparently, he was.

"Dr. McKay, what are you doing here?" said a female voice on the other side of the curtain. "You aren't allowed—"

"Oh, come off it! You can't tell me Carson isn't done yet? It’s a physical, not brain surgery." John had just enough time to register Rodney's voice, before the curtain was being yanked open, and the other man was stepping into his makeshift room.

John went tense, frozen in his state of vulnerability. Rodney looked like he had been going to say something but had lost the thought. His eyes shifted from John's face to his stump, to the prosthesis leaned against the table, before returning to his face. "I, uh..." Rodney floundered slightly, eyes twitching down to John's thigh and back up again.

Taking a deep breath, John sat up a little taller, trying with all his might to look confident and comfortable. In reality, he would have been more comfortable if Rodney had walked in on him masturbating, then walked in on him without his prosthesis "Dr. McKay."

"Sorry," Rodney said, clearing his throat. "I was just coming to see if they had released you yet. I was going to ask if you wanted to go to the mess." 

"Yeah, sure," John said, tense with false charm. John was oddly surprised with himself. Normally, when caught off guard like this, his default was anger. For some reason, he didn’t want to be angry at Rodney. Which was...odd, to say the least. 

"Just give me a few. Dr. Beckett isn't quite done yet. Caught me with my pants down," John tried to joke, but his tense tone made it sound awkward. He reached over for his prosthesis, not missing the way Rodney’s eyes followed the movement. "You really do know how to make first impressions, don't you? First you insult me, now you burst in on my physical. You’re a real charmer."

Before Rodney had the chance to say anything in response, the curtain was opening again, and Carson walked in. "Rodney! What are you doing here? Have you no shame, or sense of privacy? Shoo, get out!" Carson said, grabbing the scientist by the shoulder and shoving him out through the curtain. "Next time I give you a physical, I'm going to leave you on display for the nurses!" he threatened, as he pulled the curtain shut again. He glared at the closed drape for a moment, before turning back to John.

"He doesn't have much sense of personal space, does he?" John asked, reaching out to take the pill bottle Carson was offering him.

"Regular social butterfly that one. All the social grace of a landslide."

John hummed and dumped a pill from the bottle out onto his palm, watching the curtain where Rodney had been shoved out. "I'm from California. We're used to landslides."

\-----

Rodney stood waiting outside the infirmary, cursing himself. He felt like a complete jackass for gawking at John like he had. He couldn't have made it more awkward if he had just pointed at the other man and said, "hey you realize you’re missing a leg, right?" Rodney had known about John's reason for medical discharge, had read it in his file. However, seeing the words 'TFA (transfemoral amputation) due to traumatic combat injury' was far less shocking than seeing it in person. 

It wasn't that Rodney had anything against John for his injury. Rodney thought no less of him. If anything, he had more respect for the veteran. It was just that he had never seen anything like it in person before. Was it normal to feel so off? To have the urge to reach down and feel for his own leg?

Shaking his head, Rodney leaned back against the wall. John had been at McMurdo for all of two days, and Rodney had already alienated him. That had to be a new personal best. It really shouldn't surprise Rodney. He should have figured out by now, that it wasn't possible for him to work with someone he found attractive without making things awkward.

What made it worse, was that Rodney had thought they would actually get along pretty well. Rodney had a sneaking suspicion that they had a lot in common when it came to hobbies and off the clock interests. At least, that was the impression he got from John owning a comic book store. Plus—and this could have just been in his head—Rodney had thought John had looked a bit disappointed when, after signing the NDA, they had ushered him out and brought Elizabeth back in.

"Look who stuck around." Rodney flinched at the sound of John's voice. "So, I believe there was mention of food? Or was that just an excuse to barge in and sneak a peek at me?" John asked, with a tight-lipped smile and cocked eyebrow. 

Rodney just looked at him. John was…trying to make nice with him. Why? "You mean you actually want to get lunch with me?"

"Well, I have no idea where the mess is, so, yeah, lead the way." John gestured down the hall with a sweep of his hand.

"Actually, it’s this way," Rodney said, and started off in the opposite direction John had referenced.

"See, this is why I need a guide. I would starve to death before finding it on my own," John said, falling into step with Rodney.

"I thought pilots were supposed to have a good sense of direction."

"Ah, in the air," John said, pointing a finger at him. "We are on the ground."

"Point taken," Rodney conceded. Rodney glanced over at John, sliding his eyes down his form. There was a slight catch to his step, but other than that, he looked like any other guy, and Rodney never would have guessed the reason behind the limp based on appearances. He felt guilty all over again.

"So, about before—"

"We really don't have to talk about it," John cut him off, a bit sternly.

"Right. Okay," Rodney agreed. He kept quiet for a few beats, then, “I just wanted to apologize for staring. It was really rude and I'm sorry. It was just, kind of a shock? I wasn't expecting...and I've never seen—you know, in person, before." Rodney fluttered a hand down towards his own legs.

John stopped walking and just blinked at the scientist. "Wow," he said, then shook his head and chuckled. "You really have no sense of social tact." He couldn't help smiling at Rodney. It was strange how endearing he found the terribly awkward apology. "Apology accepted, now can we change the subject?"

Rodney just nodded, keeping his mouth shut. As they started walking again, Rodney noticed something he hadn't before. John was still wearing the same clothes they had picked him up in. "You know, you can have some new clothes requisitioned, along with anything else you need and didn't get to bring with you."

John hummed in agreement. "Yeah, Dr. Weir already got a list from me."

"Good. That’s good," Rodney said, as they entered the mess. "Grab a table and I’ll get us some food."

Doing as told, John took an empty table near the wall that gave a decent vantage point to people watch, and provided enough privacy for them to speak freely about classified information.

A few minutes later, Rodney was joining him. "Nothing special, but it’s edible-ish," he said, as he sat down with the trays. "The outpost is about the same. Well, we get more MREs."

"Why do you say that like it’s a good thing?"

"I like MREs," Rodney defended, and John made a face at him. "Why does everyone think that is so weird?"

John ignored the question, in favor of asking his own. "So, Dr. Weir is really in charge of the operation?"

"She sure is. We are partnered with the military, and of course have government oversight, but this is, by and large, a civilian research program. The military presence at the outpost is very minimal really." 

"This outpost everyone keeps mentioning, these Ancients built it?"

"Yes. It’s where we will be spending most of our time. We'll fly out there in a couple days." 

John nodded along. "And this gene I have, it lets me use their stuff?"

"Again, yes. Ancient technology can only be activated by someone with the ATA gene. We have other people with it, but it is very rare and your presentation of it is much, much stronger than we have seen in anyone else. Didn't anyone explain all of this to you, already?"

"Yeah, but it’s a lot to take in. Hearing it again helps." In response, Rodney hummed around a mouthful of food. "Hey, wait a second," John started, realizing something. "How did you guys know I had the gene?"

Rodney choked on his food. Coughing a little, he took a long drink of water and paused to catch his breath. "Well...um, I believe some scientist overstepped a few rules, and ran a screening for the gene against some samples the military had on file." 

John leaned back in his chair and eyed Rodney. " _Some_ scientist?" Rodney looked away from him, his cheeks flushing a little. "It was you, wasn't it?"

"I—uh...maybe?"

John smiled, shaking his head. "Okay, so let me see if I have this right," he leaned his elbows on the table. "We've known each other for less than 48 hours and you've already," John lifted a hand to tick off his fingers as he spoke, "insulted my intelligence, called me names, invaded my privacy, ogled me—” this was said with sarcasm and an eyebrow wiggle “—and are responsible for violating my civil liberties."

Rodney's face went very red and his mouth worked to form words, but none came out. Chuckling again, John sighed and broke into a wide grin. "We're going to be best friends aren’t we?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last 'introduction' chapter. Things start to pick up after this so stay tuned!
> 
> This story has been completed and chapters will be posted on a regular basis, either weekly or bi weekly! Tremendous thank you to [Ani272](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ani272/pseuds/Ani272) for beta/proof reading this for me in such a timely manner. You are awesome!

It was four more days before they were able to head back to the outpost. Supplies were gathered to restock the research site, and meetings were held to relay information to the SGC and their international partners. 

John managed to get in touch with an old friend who was willing to oversee his store, while he was away. Most of the supplies he had asked for were delivered to him—clothes, toiletries, even a few books for down time. John felt a bit out of sorts about the whole thing. It was strange being surrounded by the military and having no orders himself. He felt like he should be doing something, but mostly he just stayed out of the way, or tagged along with Rodney. 

No one had told John to do this, but it felt the most natural. It had been mentioned more than once that they would be working together, so John hung around him because he didn't have any other co-workers, so to speak. Rodney didn't seem to mind and answered John’s questions during and after meetings. 

By the time everything was packed up and they were ready to fly out, John was more than ready. He was feeling a bit stir crazy, what with the promise of new frontiers somewhere out on the ice. Tugging his coat tightly around himself, he followed along with the others as they made their way out into the cold, towards the Chinook that would be flying them out. 

John paused, feeling twitchy, as he looked at it, his heart rate kicking up to match the buzzing thrum of the chopper blades. Despite the cold, he felt sweat prickling his skin. 

"You ok?" Rodney shouted at him, to be heard over the thump of the chopper blades.

"How—how often do we have to fly back and forth?" he shouted back, trying not to sound too shaky.

"Not very, why?" 

John didn't answer and forced himself to walk to the chopper. Rodney followed close behind and sat next to him once they were on board. John felt his stomach lurch violently as they took off. Reaching over, he grabbed one of the safety straps hanging from the ceiling and clutched at it tightly. Eyes forward, he focused on his breathing and tried desperately to keep his mind from wandering.

When they had brought him out to Antarctica, they had flown him on a chain of plane flights, which had been fine. Even the tiny Biplane they had used to get to the icy continent hadn’t bothered him. It hadn't been until they landed in Antarctica, that they had put him in a chopper to get out to McMurdo. That had been a nerve-wracking flight. Pitch black outside, surrounded by strangers who wouldn’t or couldn't talk to him. Nothing to keep his mind from wandering. He had spent the whole trip saying “breathe in, breathe out” over and over in his head, and hoping desperately that no one noticed how badly he was shaking. 

A hand on his shoulder had John nearly jumping out of his skin. "John, are you all right?" Elizabeth questioned, in a kindly way. Her face was neutral, but John saw the concern in her eyes.

"How long is the flight?" John asked, proud that his voice was relatively normal sounding.

"Not very," she told him. "You don't like flying very much, do you?" Her voice was soft with what was probably meant to be understanding. What John heard was pity.

John shrugged away from her hand, inadvertently scooting closer to Rodney. The scientist looked over at him, and John was halfway expecting pity from him as well. What he got was a frown and a calculated look, followed by a nod. 

"You know, I don't really like choppers that much either. It’s the blades," Rodney started, making a swirling motion with his hand. "They make me nervous. The physics behind helicopters is very sound though. Quite interesting, if you think about. It’s really a very straight forward representation of—"

John listened intently, as Rodney delved into the physics of how helicopters stayed in the air. Followed his hand gestures and watched his crooked mouth form complex words. As far as distractions went, it was better than nothing, and John was very grateful for it. Grateful that Rodney hadn't said anything about his discomfort or asked what was wrong. For someone with supposedly no social grace, it was a very graceful move.

\-----

John was remarkably unimpressed when they first arrived. The tiny structure on the surface was not at all what he had been imagining. It made him fear he had been catfished. Then they had crammed into the industrial elevator and descended below the ice. The depth of the descent shocked John, and when the doors opened to reveal the infrastructure, all John's disappointment vanished.

"Wow," he said, breathy and quiet, as he looked around the room. The angular architecture and random stained-glass panels felt very Sci-fi, as if it had been pulled straight from a comic book panel. "Cool," he said, turning a wide smile at the others.

"Yes, very," Rodney agreed, following him as John ventured into the room.

"And all this stuff is Ancient technology?" John asked, reaching out to touch some of the equipment. He was stopped by Rodney grabbing his hand.

"I think it would be safer if you didn't randomly touch stuff. We don't know what a lot of this stuff does yet," he said, not letting go of John's hand. John looked down at where Rodney’s hand was folded over the back of his and wiggled his fingers a little. Rodney drew his hand away, cheeks tinting. "But, uh, if you do want to try out some Ancient technology, we could head to the chair room. It will take me some time to unload my equipment and get things set up for the readings and tests, but—"

"Dr. McKay," Elizabeth butted in from behind them. "We’ve only just arrived. It’s late, and as you said, setting things up will take time. Why don't you wait until tomorrow to start with your testing."

"But," Rodney huffed, pouting at the woman.

John pressed his lips together to keep from smiling. It was an awkwardly cute look on Rodney, pouty determination. Elizabeth looked over at him and smiled kindly. "If you are so eager to spend time with John," she started, and John was a touch embarrassed by the wording and was grateful when she shifted her gaze back to Rodney, "why don't you show him where the living quarters are, so he can settle in."

"Oh...uh, yeah, I can do that," the scientist said awkwardly. It didn't escape John's notice that Rodney was flushing, and Elizabeth was looking at him with a funny little smile and pointedly cocked eyebrow. 

John cleared his throat. "That would be great, actually. I wouldn't mind a night’s rest before you turn me into a guinea pig," he said, drawing the attention of them both.

"Okay, yeah, this way," Rodney stuttered, and waved John along as he started down the hall. 

John shifted his pack on his shoulder and glanced around as they walked. There was more space down here than he would have ever guessed, based on the structure on the surface. He wondered how far the halls stretched. "How big is this place?"

"Pretty big," Rodney answered, and stopped at a crossroad where several halls intersected. "There are still areas we haven't been able to gain access to, and parts that have been damaged or lost to the ice." Rodney started pointing out the different hallways off the intersection they were in. "Labs where we will be working are that way, so is the mess. Infirmary and botany labs are down there. Personal quarters are this way."

"Botany labs? There are plants down here?"

"Yes, we found preserved samples from dozens of different planets. They are researching potential cultivation strategies for the ones that could be beneficial. They work with the medical team quite a bit." As they continued to walk, the hallway soon changed from sleek metal walls to door after door like the hall of an apartment complex. 

"How many people are out here?" John asked, looking at all the doors. 

"Few dozen. Most of them rotate out every few months, but some of us are here for the long haul," Rodney explained, and stopped in front of a door. 

"This me?"

"Yeah, uh," Rodney pinched his brow up and paused. John recognized the look of discomfort, had seen it on plenty of people since he had lost his leg. It was usually followed by someone asking him an awkward question or fumbling the conversation. Right on cue, Rodney started speaking again. "So, do you—that is, I was going to ask if...I don't know how this works, and I didn't exactly make the best first impression, and I don't want to offend you."

"Rodney," John drawled the other man’s name out slowly and gave him a pointed look. The kind parents used when they wanted to make sure their kid was actually listening to them. "If you offend me, trust me, I will let you know. Honestly, I’m more bothered by people walking on eggshells, acting like they are afraid to offend me. Treat me and talk to me the same way you would anyone." Rodney gave a quick, jerky nod but then just kept looking at him, not saying anything. Heaving a heavy sigh that turned into a breathy chuckle at the end, John pinched the bridge of his nose. "What were you going to ask?" 

"Would you—what would be better for you. Shower or a bathtub?" 

"See, great question," John said, smacking Rodney on the shoulder lightly. "I would prefer a tub, if that were an option." Rodney looked relieved and John squeezed his shoulder lightly, before dropping his hand away.

Muttering to himself, Rodney started down the hall again to a room farther back, and John followed behind him. Rodney was a bit of an odd and awkward duck, but he was growing on John. "Here, this one should have one," the scientist said, stopping next to a door. He reached out and waved his hand over a little sensor and it slid open, making John’s eyes go wide.

"Star Trek eat your heart out," John said, with a grin. He waved his hand over it a couple of times himself, enchanted by the open-close action of it. 

"Yes, yes, it’s very impressive," Rodney said, with a huff of laughter.

John swiped the door open one last time and dropped his hand. He felt a bit foolish, like a little kid playing with the window button on a car. "Thanks. Hey, uh—never mind. Night." John changed his mind, stepping into the room. Turning around to close the door, he saw Rodney giving him a funny look, like he was trying to guess what John had been about to say. 

"Night," Rodney finally said back, and turned to go.

John hesitated in his doorway for a moment, then took a step back out to the hall. "I was gonna ask...where your room was. You know, just in case I—you know, just in case."

Rodney blinked at him for a moment, and a crooked little smile flashed over his face briefly. He pointed down the hall in the opposite direction they had come from. "Very end, last one on the left."

"Cool. Thanks." John gave him a small wave and went back to his own room. Once the door was shut, he leaned against it and sighed, agitated by his own awkwardness. 

Looking around the room, he was surprised to see a small kitchenette in one corner. There was a desk, a small table and a horribly narrow bed. A door in the back lead to the bathroom which, as promised, had a deep, wide-rimmed tub. Stepping back into the main room, John sat on the bed and dropped his bag to the floor. So, this was home for the time being? Well, it beat the barracks, that was for sure.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story has been completed and chapters will be posted on a regular basis, either weekly or bi weekly! Tremendous thank you to [Ani272](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ani272/pseuds/Ani272) for beta/proof reading this for me in such a timely manner. You are awesome!

"What is taking them so long?" Rodney huffed, and tapped at his laptop in annoyance. Looking up from the screen, he glared at the doorway to the chair room.

"Would you relax, Rodney," Daniel said, coming to stand next to the scientist. "Dr. Weir will be done giving John the tour soon enough. It's not like we don't have other things we could be working on."

"The whole reason I wanted him here was so he could use the chair and access the database for us. We need him for that," Rodney said firmly.

"I was thinking about that," Daniel said, taking off his glasses and rubbing his forehead. "I'm not so sure it’s a good idea to start off by putting him in the chair right away. It’s a pretty complex piece of technology. Maybe we should start off with something simpler. You know, ease him in to interacting with Ancient technology."

"Why would we do that?"

"Rodney, from what we can tell, the chair is a direct link to the Ancient database for this outpost—"

"Which is exactly why we need John to activate it," Rodney cut in firmly. "Look, leave the technology stuff to me all right. You just worry about the cultural history, or whatever it is you do." He flapped a hand at Daniel dismissively. He knew in reality, what the other man did was very important, not that he would ever actually admit that out loud.

Replacing his glasses, Daniel glared at Rodney, but their conversation came to an end as Elizabeth, John in toe, entered the chair room. "And this is the Ancient control chair," the woman said, gesturing to the throne-like chair.

"Cool," John said, walking up to it and looking down at it. "What does it do?"

"What doesn’t it do?" Rodney took over. "It’s a direct link to the database for this outpost. It can control all the systems here."

"From what we can tell," Daniel added. "We have had very limited use of it, so far."

"How come?" John asked, circling around it and running his hands over the wingback.

"It seems the more complex the Ancient technology is, the more difficult it can be to interact with. The gene carriers we have tried with the control chair so far, have had difficulties making it work," Rodney explained. "But you, with your heavy expression of the gene, should have no trouble getting it up and running."

"In theory," Daniel muttered.

"Yes, in theory," Rodney sniped, glaring over at the archeologist. "Don’t you have something to translate, somewhere?"

"So, how does it work?" John circled around to the front of it again, poking at the jelly like substance on the armrests. Pulling his hand away, he made a gross face at it and rubbed his hand on his pant leg. "I just sit down, or…?"

"You just sit down," Rodney confirmed, grinning up at the other man.

\-----

John looked over at Rodney, slightly unsure. He had touched a couple things on the tour, and they had glowed under his hand, and made an odd subtle warmth tingle in his chest and head. Ever since settling in the previous night, he had felt a touch off. Like he hadn't been truly alone. Maybe that was just how it was for all the people with the gene. 

Rodney’s look of excitement and confidence was reassuring. Taking a deep breath, he sat down. The chair hummed around him, and lit up as it sank back into a reclined position. John gasped; the warm tingle was back, only much stronger.

It enveloped him. Wormed its way under his skin and settled there, like a heavy blanket. It felt strange, yet familiar. John had an odd feeling of togetherness. The prickling sensation you got when someone was in your personal bubble. Like the chair was reaching for him. It was an oddly comfortable feeling. Homey almost.

"Oh, this is great! See I told you!" Rodney was saying, excited and a touch high pitched.

"Okay," John said, looking over at the other man. He saw that not just Rodney was staring at him. So were Elizabeth and Daniel, as well as a handful of other people that had trickled into the room. "What now?" John asked, looking at Rodney and trying to ignore the others. He wasn’t fond of being the center of attention.

"I want you to think about where we are in the galaxy."

Nodding, John closed his eyes and thought. At the sound of surprised gasps around him, John opened them again. Displayed overhead was a beautiful hologram of the solar system. "Did I do that?"

"Yes, yes." Rodney sounded awe struck and it made John smile. "Now think of Atlantis and where it is in relation to us."

"But I don't know where that is."

"That's okay. Thinking of it should let you access the database and find out," Rodney explained.

Taking a deep breath, John closed his eyes and thought. The warm homey feeling intensified. Then it changed.

The feeling of comfort became a probing pressure in his mind. The additional presence in his head shifting from passive companionship to intense interaction. He flinched. Was it supposed to feel like this? He was about to ask, when suddenly his breath was stolen by the onslaught of memories.

_Explosion. Fire, heat, smoke, pain._

_Stench. Chemicals, flesh, hot metal._

_"Sheppard!"_

John's eyes shot open and he lurched forward, lunging out of the chair so fast it didn't even have time to straighten properly. His foot caught the lip of the footrest and he stumbled forward, tumbling awkwardly down the step of the chair platform. Scrambling away from it, he rushed to stand, but the knee joint of his prosthesis caught with the sloppy motion. Nearly falling on his face again, he turned at the last second, landing on his ass instead.

"What the hell just happened?" Rodney was saying, too loudly, next to him. John's ears were still ringing, his sinuses burning, phantom leg throbbing. "What’s the matter?" A hand was on his shoulder.

"Don't touch me!" John lashed out, smacking Rodney's hand away hard enough for it to make his own hand sting. 

"Ow! I was trying to help! What is wrong with you?" Rodney scolded, indignantly.

"Me?" John shouted, voice cracking. "What the fuck is wrong with _you?_ Why would you—what the fuck, Rodney!" He staggered to his feet, unable to resist the urge to clutch at his thigh. Screaming in his head to ignore the pain, because the leg was already gone. 

"John, calm down," Elizabeth said, calm, but firm. She reached out towards him, but John didn't give her the chance to touch him. 

"Stay the hell away from me," he scolded harshly. Shoving her away from him, John shouldered past the other onlookers, leaving as quickly as he could.

\----- 

John wandered the halls, alone, for what felt like hours. He couldn't be around anyone right now, he was too jittery. Too pissed off. 

Too pained.

He was going in circles and he knew it, had passed through the large intersection near the middle of the base more than once. He thought about going to his room, but the thought of being cooped up made his skin crawl. He needed...hell, he didn't know what he needed. 

Hearing footsteps, John turned down a corridor away from them, not paying attention to which way he was going, and not caring. He had done this in the hospital as well. Avoided everyone. Rolled his wheelchair out to the farthest, most abandoned part of the hospital he could find, and just sat there, alone, until the nurses had forced him back to his room for medications and bandage changes.

The déjà vu of it made a shock of phantom pain shoot up from his nonexistent calf, and set the nerves in his thigh on fire. Breathing deeply, he leaned against the wall and slid down it to sit on the floor. Pulling the prescription Carson had given him from his pocket, he dry swallowed two pills and closed his eyes. The difference between the hospital and here, was that here there was no one to force him back.

\-----

John stayed out there, in his solitude, staring blankly at the wall, until he started to drift off. His head lolling forward as dead weight jerked him awake with a start. Scrambling to his feet, he glanced around. Cool metal tones and warm white lighting. The outpost. Not Afghanistan.

Shaking his head to clean away the fog, John started back towards the main part of the complex. As he turned down the hall to his room, John was thankful for not running into anyone. 

"John." The sound of his name made the man flinch. He had spoken too soon. Turning, he saw Elizabeth approaching him. "We've been worried about you. No one's seen you for hours." Her voice showed her concern, as did her creased brow. 

"I, uh, needed to be alone for a while." 

Elizabeth nodded, her lips pinched together tightly. "About what happened..." she paused, and John straightened his shoulders, preparing for the awkward pity. "Did anyone mention that we have a psychiatrist on staff here?"

John couldn't stifle his bitter snort of laughter. "Of course you do," he drawled, slowly. "Hire the nut-job soldier and you've gotta bring a shrink along too."

"No," Elizabeth said, quick and firm. "Dr. Heightmeyer has been part of our team for over a year. Working out here in isolation for so long, cabin fever is a real thing. It helps to have a professional to speak with, when people start getting squirrely." 

John crossed his arms and gave her a carefully blank look. "You want me to talk to her, don't you."

"I think it would be beneficial, yes."

"Is that an order?" John questioned, bitterly.

"I'm not a CO and you’re not a soldier. So, no, it’s not an order. Just a suggestion," Elizabeth clarified, but there was a hardness in her eyes at the word 'suggestion' that made it seem very much like an order.

"Yeah, whatever," John huffed. "And where would I find this Dr. Heightmeyer's office?"

"You remember the way to the infirmary?" John nodded, and Elizabeth explained the directions to him. 

Once she was done, John nodded curtly and continued on his way to his room. He got the feeling Elizabeth wanted to stop him, as if she had been expecting him to go see Dr. Heightmeyer right away. John ignored the heavy feeling of her eyes on his back, as he walked down the hall. 

When he was finally behind his closed door, he heaved a heavy, shaky sigh. Tugging off his shirt, he went to the restroom and started filling the tub. As he watched the steaming water fill it, he was curious as to how a structure, thousands of years old and buried in ice, could have running—let alone hot—water. John thought he would have to ask Rodney about it.

John's face went sour at the thought of the other man. Scratch that. He was never going to be asking Rodney anything again. Growling angrily, John sat on the wide rim of the tub and set about removing his cargo pants and prosthesis. It was lucky it had been Elizabeth who saw him first, and not Rodney. He probably would have punched the scientist's lights out.

Shutting off the water, John groaned as he sank into the tub. Leaning his head back, he shut his eyes and let the heat of it envelop him and soothe away the tension in his muscles. He would soak for a while, then go to bed. Normally, the relaxing heat was enough to calm him out of having bad dreams. 

This time, however, it did not. John woke with a shout, water sloshing around him as he sat up and clutched at the edge of the tub. He didn't remember falling asleep—hadn’t meant to—but he had been out long enough for the water to have gone cold, and his skin to prune. 

Leaning his forehead on the side of the tub, he shut his eyes, then opened them quickly as images of fire and black smoke assaulted him. Growling and heaving himself up, John decided now was as good a time as ever to make his complimentary visit to the shrink.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story has been completed and chapters will be posted on a regular basis, either weekly or bi weekly! Tremendous thank you to [Ani272](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ani272/pseuds/Ani272) for beta/proof reading this for me in such a timely manner. You are awesome!

John rapped on the door firmly and waited. When it opened, he was a little surprised. Dr. Heightmeyer was not at all what he had been expecting. Pretty and young, instead of old and stuffy. 

"John, hello, please come in," she said kindly, and stepped aside to let him in. 

"No need for introductions, I take it?" he commented, as he entered the office.

"Dr. Weir mentioned you might be stopping by," she said as way of explanation, and motioned to an armchair.

"Of course she did," John gritted out, as he took a seat. "And I suppose she told you about what happened?"

"She mentioned there was an incident and you were rather rattled." Kate sat down across from him in her own chair, and folded her hands loosely on her crossed knees. "Would you like to tell me about that?"

"No, not really," John sneered, and turned to study a colorful, abstract painting she had hung on the wall. Kate just sat quietly and waited; she didn't fidget or prod him, just gave him time. 

"I'm just really pissed off," John finally snapped, with enough voracity in the quiet of the room that Kate flinched. 

"At what, who?" she asked gently.

"Rodney," John hissed.

"Dr. McKay? Tell me, why are you angry with him?"

"Because he made me sit in that fucking chair! I thought we were becoming friends. I mean, I know he's not the most gracious person, but I didn't think he was a total ass. Why would he make me sit in that thing, if it was just going to make me relive the worse moments of my life?"

"Is that what happened?" Kate asked, with a sad little hum. "It made you relive your accident?"

John nodded, tight lipped and a little jerky. Unconsciously, he ran his hand over his thigh, finger tracing the line where flesh was covered by hard plastic.

"Could you tell me about that? About what it made you see?"

"It didn't just make me see it. It—it—" John gave a shaky sigh and shut his eyes. "It made me _feel_ it." He dropped his head down into his hands and took several deep breaths.

"The—the crash, the fire. I was there all over again, pinned and watching—" John was trembling violently now. "Watching them and, and, and I could—I couldn’t—" Sitting up, John slammed his fist down on the armrest, covering his face with his other hand.

"It’s all right, take your time," Kate reassured him. John lapsed into a long silence. "Have you had episodes before?"

"I have nightmares most nights, the actual night terrors have gotten a little better, but they still happen sometimes. I, uh, don't do well flying in choppers, and fire, I—hell, sometimes I can't even make it through watching an action movie. The explosions get to me sometimes."

"John," Kate said, softly. "Did you ever talk to anyone after the accident?"

John shook his head minutely. "They made me do some sessions when I was in the hospital. Other than that," he rolled his shoulders in a shrug.

"What about support groups? Other veterans with PTSD?"

Another shake of his head. "Nah, not really my thing," John muttered.

Kate got a soft look on her face and paused for a moment before responding. "This is a safe space, John. I know a lot of soldiers have trouble talking about, or admitting to, post traumatic stress disorder, but it is not something to be afraid to acknowledge."

"What? No," John said, sitting up a little straighter. "I'm not ashamed to admit I have it. People don't go through the kind of shit I have, that other veterans have, and come out of it unchanged. There's no shame in that."

Another pause from Kate, then, "So what are you ashamed of?"

"What? Nothing. Why would you ask that?”

"Ashamed was your word. People have the tendency to subconsciously refer to other people and situations using terms they apply to themselves. What are you ashamed of?"

John looked at Kate for a long moment before turning back to the painting she had on the wall. He wasn’t sure what made him talk. Maybe it was her soft, gentle tone and non-threatening heart-shaped face. Maybe it was because his psyche had been ripped open by the chair. Or maybe it was because the only friend he had in a thousand-mile radius had betrayed him. 

John wasn't sure why, but he found himself saying, "My father wasn't in the military, but he would have fit in really well. He...he had a very strict view of what made a man a man. About what men were, and weren’t supposed to do."

Kate watched John for a moment, placid and calculating. "And acknowledging emotions was one of the things men didn't do."

"That was for girls. Men didn't get their feelings hurt. Men weren't soft or vulnerable. Hell, the only emotion he thought it was okay for a man to express was anger."

Kate gave a long, low hum. "Do you think that is why you are so angry with Dr. McKay?" she asked, bringing the conversation full circle.

"No," John said, smiling with confidence. "I'm mad at him because he put me in that fucking chair. He'd read my record, knew what I'd been through. Asshole didn't even warn me. Why would he do that to me?"

"That’s a very good question, John. Let's talk about that some more. What happened in the chair room?" Kate asked, shifting smoothly to uncross and recross her legs.

"No. I don't want to right now," John sighed, rubbing his eyes. "I don’t want to talk anymore. I'm tired."

"All right, that's fine," the doctor said. Standing, she walked around to her desk and opened her appointment book. "If you do feel like talking again, I'm reserving Tuesdays and Thursdays, six to seven PM."

"Really, you don't need to do that," John protested.

"Well, I am. If you choose to come, that’s up to you, but as of now those times slots are yours. And any other time for that matter. My door is always open."

\-----

Rodney was leaving the mess a couple days later when he ran into Kate. 

"Dr. McKay," she said, stopping him just outside the mess hall. 

"Heightmeyer," he said skeptically. They didn’t have much of a working relationship. Unlike most of the people stationed long-term at the outpost, he had never been to see her. All the psychobabble was nonsense, if you asked him. "What can I do for you?"

"I wanted to speak with you about John," she said, directing him away from the door and down a quieter, more secluded part of the hall.

"What about him?" Rodney asked, now very interested. He hadn't seen hide nor hair of John since the incident with the control chair. He had tried looking for him but had no luck. Rodney had knocked on his door a couple times but had been ignored.

"It’s my professional opinion that you discontinue any further tests you had planned involving him and the control chair."

"Why am I not surprised you want to stick your nose into that?" Rodney huffed, raising his chin. "Look, I don't tell you how to do your job, so don't tell me how to do mine."

"It is my job to look out for the mental health of my patients. If I have to make it an official order through Dr. Weir, I will. I am not going to let you bully John into using a device that makes him relive the most traumatic parts of his life," Kate said firmly.

Rodney's face fell into a deep, sad frown. "Oh my God, is that what it did to him?"

"You didn't know?" 

"No, he just freaked out and left. He didn't tell me what had happened," Rodney explained. "That's what he said it did?" Rodney sighed, raking a hand through his hair.

Studying Rodney for a moment, Kate realized something. "You didn't know it would do that, did you?"

"What? No, of course not! I might be arrogant and egotistical, but I'm not a monster. If I had known, I wouldn't have made him use it right out of the gate!"

"But I don't understand." Kate pinched her brow in confusion. "You've activated the chair before, run tests with it. How could you not know what it would do?"

Rodney's eyes narrowed at her and he sucked a deep breath, nostrils flaring with anger. "That is a _very_ good question, and one I intend to find the answer to. Excuse me."

Turning away from her, Rodney headed down the hall towards the infirmary and medical research section of the outpost. While they had been brief and unsuccessful overall, Kate was right, they had run tests with the chair before. Getting Carson to activate it had been incredibly difficult, and when the doctor had managed to activate it, the use had been very short lived. 

If this memory recall was the reason behind his reluctance to use the chair, he should have told Rodney. The scientist gritted his teeth in anger. Weren’t MDs supposed to be humanitarian? How could he have sat by, and let Rodney put John in the chair, without saying anything?

"Carson!" Rodney called, when he entered the research lab.

Carson flinched at the aggressive shout, nearly dropping the test tube he was holding. "God almighty, ever heard of knocking?" he huffed, setting the tube down and turning to face a very upset looking Rodney. "And to what do I owe this pleasant visit?"

"Why didn't you tell me the control chair recalls memories?"

"What are you talking about?"

Rodney nearly growled at him. "The chair making you see things that have already happened to you. Why didn't you tell me it does that?"

"Because it doesn't!" Carson said defensively.

"Oh, really?" Rodney drawled sarcastically and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Yes, really. It never did anything like that to me," he paused, looking thoughtful, then his face fell. "Oh, no, is that what it—oh, the poor lad."

Rodney hummed in confirmation, face softening a little.

"Rodney, if I had known it was going to do that, I would have said something. The chair never made me see anything. Heck, it never did anything to me. I could barely feel it. Must be because John's presentation of the gene is so much stronger than mine," Carson mused.

"Hmm, I suppose—wait. What did you mean by 'feel’ it'?"

"Just that. When you made me use the chair, I didn't feel anything."

"But you 'feel' something when you use other Ancient technology?" Carson nodded. "What do you mean exactly?"

"I don't know, it’s hard to explain...when I use stuff like this," he gestured to a piece of medical equipment on the table, "using it comes naturally. I don't have to try and make it work, it just does."

"Yes, yes, but explain what you mean by feeling it," Rodney persisted.

"I just said it’s hard to explain. It’s like..." he made a helpless little hand gesture and Rodney frowned at him.

"I need to go over the readings I got from the chair again. Maybe I missed something," Rodney muttered to himself, and turned to go.

"Wait, what about John? How is he doing?"

"I don't know. I actually haven't seen him since the, uh, well, you know." Carson nodded. "I think he's avoiding me. If you see him, tell him I'm looking for him. I'd really like to talk."

"I'll pass it along," Carson said and waved Rodney off.

\-----

The next morning, Rodney was working in his lab with Daniel.

"See, this section here doesn’t make sense," Rodney said to Daniel, pointing to a section of text on his laptop.

Daniel squinted at it. "That’s because you translated it wrong," he said, taking the computer and pulling up the original Ancient text.

"No, I didn’t," Rodney scowled, taking the computer back.

"If you didn't think there was a problem with the translation, why did you want me to look at it?" Daniel pointed out, holding his hands out for the computer again.

"Fine, here," Rodney huffed, giving the laptop back to him. 

Daniel took it and plugged in a jump drive. "I’ll download it and see what I can do," he said, looking at Rodney as the files transferred. Looking past Rodney's shoulder to the door of their lab, he smiled a little. "Looks like you have a visitor."

Rodney turned to look, and sure enough, John was hovering in the doorway. "Think he's still mad at me?" Daniel shrugged and gave Rodney his laptop back. Muttering a ‘thank you’ he took it and went back to his side of the lab. Hooking the computer back up to his station, Rodney held his breath, waiting for John to come over. Finally, he heard the other man approach and Rodney felt suddenly nervous, not sure what to expect.

"I heard you were looking for me," John said, a touch salty, hands shoved in the pockets of his cargo pants as he stood an arm’s length from Rodney, looking at him expectantly. 

"Yes, I was," Rodney said, turning to John. "I want to apologize for what happened before. I need you to know that I had no clue the chair would—would do what it did to you."

John watched him silently for several long moments. "Thought you had used it before," he finally said.

"Yes, well, it didn't do to Dr. Beckett what it did to you. I'm starting to think Ancient technology might actually interact differently with different gene carriers," Rodney explained.

"Oh?" John questioned. Pulling a stool up to Rodney's work bench, he sat down. 

"Yes. Can I ask you a few questions about what happened when you used it? Not about what you saw," he added quickly, when he saw John flinch. "About before that happened."

"Sure, I guess," John shrugged, and picked a screwdriver up from Rodney's desk, so he would have something to do with his hands.

"When it activated, did you feel anything?"

"Like what?"

"Like, I don't know, anything?"

John twirled the screwdriver between his fingers as he thought. "Yeah. At first it felt...kind of good. I don't know how to explain it really, it felt almost like, like I wasn't alone?" 

Rodney pinched his brow at that. "You mean like the chair was, what, trying to interact with you back?" 

John shrugged. Sighing he set down the screwdriver and locked eyes with Rodney. "I’m never sitting in that thing again."

Rodney frowned sadly. "You have to, eventually. We need you to."

"Rodney—"

"I'm not going to make you," Rodney cut him off. "I won’t ask you to or even bring it up, but eventually, when you're ready, you'll have to try again." John sighed heavily but nodded. "In the meantime," Rodney opened a drawer on his desk and pulled out a small block. "I think it would be a good idea for you to get more experience interacting with Ancient technology." 

"Gee, if only someone had thought of that before we put him in the chair," Daniel commented from his side of the lab. Rodney looked over his shoulder to glare at the other man, as John took the block from his hand.

"What does it do?" John asked, turning it in his hands. 

"Not sure. It hasn't been activated yet. But we found it with a bunch of trinkets that were pretty much kids’ toys, so it’s probably harmless," Rodney explained. 

John thought 'on' and the cube came to life, little lines appearing over its surface. "Cool. Thanks," John muttered, running his fingers over its surface, watching as the lines shifted. Thinking it ‘off’, he tucked it away in a cargo pocket for later. "Is there anything I can help with?"

For the next couple of hours, John played light switch and pestered Rodney with an endless stream of "What’s this? What’s that do? Did I do that? How's that work?" Rodney took every question and sign of curiosity in stride, answering to the best of his ability. 

As the morning wore on, their conversation turned from work to casual. John told Rodney about how he had opened his comic store, and detailed his own personal collection of Sci-fi paraphernalia, several pieces of which had Rodney rather envious. 

It was nearly noon when John looked down at his watch and muttered a curse. "I have to go. I told Dr. Beckett I would help him with some of his medical research. Apparently, he thinks I'm the key to perfecting his gene therapy."

Rodney was disappointed to see John go, but nodded in understanding. "You're a hot commodity."

John grinned at Rodney, clapping him lightly on the shoulder. "See you around."

"See you," Rodney agreed. He watched until John had left the room, then turned back to his computer.

"Wow," Daniel said, as he approached Rodney's work bench. "Isn't that interesting," he commented, as he handed Rodney the jump drive with the files he had fixed. 

"Isn't what interesting?"

"You like him," Daniel said, leaning on the table.

Scoffing, Rodney plugged in the drive. "Of course I like him, we're friends." 

"No, I mean you _like_ , like him." Daniel clarified.

Rodney sputtered briefly before replying. "What are we, in middle school?"

"Just calling what I saw."

"Oh?" Rodney raised his chin, crossing his arms over his chest. "And what, pray tell, did you see to support this insight of yours? " Rodney questioned, a touch too embarrassed to admit Daniel was right.

"Rodney, I've worked with you for quite a while now, and I can count on one hand the number of times you have willing and genuinely apologized to someone or put someone else's feelings above your research." Daniel paused, holding up a finger. "Once, just now."

"That—that is entirely circumstantial," Rodney countered, still not owning up to his crush.

"Yeah, I guess so." The archeologist shrugged and headed back over to his own workspace. "To bad you're not interested, because he likes you."

"And what do you have to support that hypothesis?" Rodney asked, trying—and failing—not to sound overly eager.

"Again, I can count on one hand the number of times someone has willing sought you out and spent casual time with you, making genuine conversation," Daniel held up a finger again. "Once."

"What about you?" Rodney questioned. "We spend plenty of time together."

"Ah, note that I said 'willingly'. I'm forced to share this lab space with you. I don't count."

"You actually think he might be interested?" Rodney asked, caving into his curiosity.

Daniel hummed and pulled off his glasses to investigate a speck on the lens. "No accounting for taste these days," he muttered.

Glaring, Rodney picked up a notebook from his desk and chucked it at the other man, hitting him on the shoulder and causing him to drop his glasses. "I'm not a troll, thank you very much."

Retrieving his glasses, Daniel studied Rodney for a moment and cocked his head to the side. "Are we talking appearance or personality?" This time he dodged the notebook flung at him.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story has been completed and chapters will be posted on a regular basis, either weekly or bi weekly! Tremendous thank you to [Ani272](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ani272/pseuds/Ani272) for beta/proof reading this for me in such a timely manner. You are awesome!

Over the next several weeks, John settled into a routine. He split his time between helping Rodney and Carson in their respective labs. While he was happy to be helpful to both men, he much preferred hanging out with Rodney. Not only did the scientist not use him as a human pincushion, he was entertaining and sweet, in his own, awkward way.

John had also surprised himself by keeping his appointments with Kate. He had been hesitant at first, and the initial few visits had been short with little conversation. As he kept going, he was amazed by how easy it became to open up to her. John was actually quite thankful for her. After the incident with the chair reopening his mental wounds, the night terrors had started up more frequently and intensely than before. On more than one occasion, he had woken up to the sounds of his own screams, or flinging himself over the edge of his narrow bed. Having someone to confide in was a great comfort. 

As he made his way into the science lab, he raised an eyebrow at the setup on Rodney's work bench. Multiple computers had been arranged around an odd-looking object. It was about the size of a milk carton, and looked like a cross between an egg and a twenty-sided dice.

"What’s with the egg?" John asked, pulling up a stool.

"Oh, good, you’re here," Rodney said, smiling brightly at him. It was a look John had learned meant Rodney was on at least his fifth cup of coffee, and it made John smile a little himself. "Not an egg. Watch." Reaching over, Rodney tapped the top of the device and it lit up, glowing a neutral shade of blue-gray. It was also playing a steady bland techno beat.

"It’s a music box," Rodney explained. "The music changes with whatever is going on inside a person's head space." As he spoke, the color of the box turned bluer and the tempo quickened. "I wanted you to link up with it, so I could get some base line readings for an experiment. Would that be all right?" Reaching over, Rodney tapped the top of it again and the music box went dark and quiet.

"Sure, I guess," John shrugged.

"Great. Just tap the top of it. It links up to whoever turns it on," Rodney explained, and shifted his focus to the computer.

John did as instructed, and the music box came to life. It played the same bland beat, and glowed the same neutral tone, as it had when Rodney had first turned it on. "Now what?" John questioned, reaching out to poke the pseudo-egg.

The color shifted away from his touch, sending a swirl of white across the surface. "Cool," he murmured, and did it a couple more times. The beat picked up with an odd twang, and the color tinted a pale purple. Curious, John dragged his finger along it in a wide arch, smiling at the way the white followed his touch, making a pretty tie-die pattern.

"Nothing, just hang out for a while," Rodney said, as he tapped away at his keyboard.

Nodding, John sat back and just observed the music box. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath, searching for the feeling he had gotten from the chair. He had noticed it on and off with a few other pieces of Ancient technology, but nothing like how the chair had felt. 

It took a moment, but he found it, a warm buzz at the base of his skull. Calming and inviting like it was saying "Hello there, nice to see you." John smiled to himself. It was a good feeling and he enjoyed it. He had enjoyed it even more when it had been the chair. That feeling had been intense and homey. More like "Welcome home, I've missed you!" It had been so pleasant a feeling that he had toyed with the idea of trying again. But every time he thought of that, his thigh throbbed and he shoved the thought away.

John did that now. Opening his eyes, he banished the notion of trying the chair to the far corner of his mind. He couldn’t do that to himself. Needing something else to focus on, John pulled the block Rodney had given him from his pocket, and turned it on.

"Oh, did you figure out what that thing does?" Rodney asked him, looking curiously at the block.

"It’s their version of a Rubik’s cube," John said, handing it to him. 

"You figure out how to solve it?"

"Yup. Every time I do, the puzzle gets harder," John explained.

Rodney nodded, examining it closely. "You’re right. This pattern is way more intricate than when you first turned it on." Rodney turned it in his hand, swiping his finger across one of the rows of lines. It flipped over to the other side and was replaced by a new set.

"Hey!" John exclaimed, snatching it back. "I'm in the middle of solving that one, don't screw it up."

Rodney gave him a look of false offense. "I am not going to screw it up. I bet I could solve it twice as fast as you could. Give it here." He made a grab for the block, but John held it out of reach.

"No, it’s mine, you gave it to me. Besides, you’re supposed to be working," John teased.

"I can multi-task," Rodney countered, making another grab at it.

"No!"

"Children, some of us are trying to work," Daniel chided from where he was surrounded by his own set of computers and thick old books, on the other side of the lab. "Don't make me come over there."

Rodney glared at him, and John turned his attention to the cube. "Yeah, Rodney, quiet down and get some work done."

"Says the man playing with a children's toy," Rodney snorted, as he started typing away at his computer again. 

"This is work for me. You said ‘just sit here’, so that's what I'm doing." John smiled down at the cube when he heard Rodney huff at him.

As he focused on the puzzle, the music box—which had previously been swirling with an array of different colors and an unsteady off-key melody—shifted to a vibrant green, and started playing a steady, medium-pitched melody that was similar to classical music, but with more bass. John glanced at it approvingly, before turning his gaze back to the cube.

It took him almost fifteen minutes to solve the puzzle. Once he had, he set it down and looked over at Rodney. The scientist was clearly deep in thought. Eyes scanning lines of code and bouncing back and forth between two monitors. Concentration was a good look on him, John decided. 

The music box shifted from green to a soft peach color. The pitch dropped lower, beat slower, bass a little heavier.

Rodney's brow was subtly creased, yet his mouth was oddly relaxed. He was forming words as he read but making no sound. As John observed him, Rodney sighed and brought a hand up to his face, bracing it against his chin. Then he bit lightly at the end of his thumb, as he cocked his head to the side in thought. Rodney's tongue darted out, tracing the edge of his thumb nail. John's eyes followed the movement. 

The color of the music box got more intense, the deep sexy thrum of the bass vibrating harder. 

John looked over at it, blushing as he realized what it was picking up on. "Uh, Rodney, you can't tell what the music box is tuned into in my head, can you?"

"Huh?" Rodney looked up at him and blinked. "No, that's not what I'm recording." He looked over at the egg and frowned. "What is it doing? I've never seen it turn that color before." He poked at it, sending a swirl of white dancing over it.

From across the lab, Daniel chuckled softly. "Thought you were supposed to be a genius Rodney." He glanced at John, raising an eyebrow.

"I am a genius, thank you," Rodney retorted, too annoyed with the insult to notice Daniel's look at John.

"How long do I have to stay linked up to this thing?" John quickly asked.

"I have plenty of data for what I need. Shut it off whenever you feel like it." Rodney shrugged, tapping at a few keys, and shutting down the data recorder hooked to the music box.

As soon as he had, John reached out and tapped the top of it, shutting it down. Rodney gave him an odd look.

"You're a bit flushed. Everything ok? It didn’t do anything like the chair did, did it?"

"No, no, I'm fine," John said, standing up. He tucked the puzzle cube in his pocket and stood there for a moment thinking. "Actually, that’s not true. Remember how you asked what the chair felt like, before it," he waved his hand in a little circle and Rodney nodded. "It sort of felt like that when it was synced up to me. Not nearly as strong, it was barely there, but I felt it."

"Interesting. Thank you," Rodney said, eyes widening as he turned back to his computer, opening the data file he had collected.

"Hey, could I have that thing?" John pointed at the egg.

"Sure," he unhooked his equipment from it. "I have another one somewhere."

"Thanks," picking it up, John waved to them both. "See you." As he left, John was sure he heard Daniel laughing and Rodney scolding him.

\----

“I’m sorry. What exactly is so funny?” Rodney questioned, glaring across the lab at Daniel.

“You seriously didn’t notice?”

“Notice what?” Rodney huffed, as he collected some equipment in a box for transport.

“What the music box was picking up on,” Daniel said, with a little exasperation.

Pinching his brow, Rodney neatly coiled up a few cables and stuck them in his box. How was he supposed to know what the different colors the music box put off meant? He had only used it a couple times. Heading to the supply closet of their lab, he dug out the second one they had found and put it in the box with his other equipment.

The green had clearly been concentration. The peachy color could have been... Rodney thought, as he shut down him computer. Hell, the only thing he associated ugly pink tones with was Valentine’s Day. “Oh,” Rodney gasped, blinking at the black screen of his laptop.

“Yeah, oh.” Daniel chided. “You are so oblivious.”

Glaring at Daniel, Rodney picked up his box and headed out the door. So maybe Daniel had been right, and John liked him. That was fine. They were adults, they could like each other and still be friends, still work together. They were adults, they could in theory do more than just be friends and work together. Then again…Rodney’s track record with relationships was less than stellar. He was really enjoying his friendship with the other man, and if he screwed things up, he would still have to work with John. 

Rodney put that train of thought on the back burner as he entered the medical research section of the infirmary. “Carson?”

“Aye, over here,” the doctor answered, looking up from a microscope. “Something I can help you with?” he asked, looking at the box of equipment Rodney was carrying.

“Yes, actually. I’m doing some research and I need you to help me collect some data.” Pulling out the music box and a laptop from the box, he hooked it up.

“I’m in the middle of a few things at the moment,” Carson protested, frowning as Rodney moved around his workspace.

“It will only take a few moments and you can work while I do this. Turn the music box on and go about what you were doing,” Rodney said, as he examined the Ancient equipment Carson had in his workspace. “Which of these do you use the most?”

“That one there and this one,” Carson said, gesturing to a couple of sleek looking boxes with windows and keyboards on the front of them. Reaching out, he tapped the top of the music box and turned back to his microscope.

“Does John ever interact with them?”

“On occasion, when he is here helping me. Smart lad, makes a good little gopher,” Carson commented fondly, then looked over at Rodney again. “Careful with that! It is in the middle of analyzing my samples!” he said, panicked as he saw Rodney fidgeting with the back of one of his machines.

“I’m not interfering with it, I’m just setting up some equipment,” Rodney sighed, waving a hand at him. “This stuff it going to stay here for the next couple weeks. It won’t interfere with any of your work, it’s just going to record data for me.” Carson frowned a little, but nodded. “See this button here?” Rodney pointed to a little green glowing key on one of the devices he had hooked up. “Before John interacts with the technology, I need you to have him push it, then hit it again when he is done. Can you handle that?”

“Yes, Rodney, I think we can manage pushing one little button,” Carson said, a bit snidely. Then he turned to glare at the music box. “How long does that thing have to say on? I don’t like it, it’s annoying and distracting.”

Rodney glanced at his watch. “That should be long enough, you can shut it down.” Carson did so, and Rodney replaced it back in his box with the laptop. “Thanks. Don’t forget the button!” Rodney called over his shoulder, as he left.

\-----

That evening, John set the music box on his bedside table and turned it on before lying down. As he relaxed into the in-between of sleep and awake, the music grew soft and mellow, the color a gentle yellow. The welcoming feeling of it in his mind grew stronger the more he relaxed.

The next morning when John woke up, he was amazed with how well rested he was. For the first time in three years, he had slept in true peace. Every night after that, he turned the box on before bed, and every night the bad dreams from his combat accident stayed away. No nightmares, no waking up screaming or thrashing. 

John got more and more used to the homey feeling of the technology in his mind, and it was easier and easier to reach out and feel its touch. After a few weeks, as soon as he turned it on, he felt its calming embrace like a hug for his mind. No searching and trying to find it, it found him. It made John all the more curious about the chair. While the mental contact of the music box was stronger than it had been initially, it was still nowhere near what the chair had felt like. 

Sitting on the edge of his bed, John looked down at his thigh and gave a heavy sigh. He hadn't felt this good mentally in a long time, using the chair again could ruin that. Looking over at the egg on his night stand he thought…or it could make things better. Rolling the silicone sleeve over his thigh, John finished dressing and went to find Rodney.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bumped rating up to Mature just to be on the safe side. Over halfway though, thanks to everyone for their feed back so far!

Yawning Rodney downed his still too hot coffee in a few brutal swallows. Hissing at the mild discomfort, he refilled his mug before heading to a table with his breakfast. Breakfast, lunch, dinner. It all sort of blurred together under the ice with no daylight. Then again, this time of year, there was no sunlight in Antarctica.

Rodney was pulled from his musings by someone sitting down across from him. "Good morning, John," he said, pushing his powdered eggs around his tray.

"Morning," John said softly, and stared down at his food with far more thought than turkey bacon and fake eggs deserved. 

"You all right there?" Rodney asked, pinching his brow in worry.

John took a deep breath, then said in a rush, "I want to try the chair again."

Rodney froze, fork halfway to his mouth, eggs tumbling off it to land all over the table. "You...what, really? Are you sure?"

"I'm sure. I've been thinking about it a lot the last few days, and I'm ready to try it again."

Frowning, Rodney clenched his jaw. John looked and sounded melancholy. Not at all like he actually wanted to do it. "Are you sure you're sure? Because you do not look excited about the idea."

"Honestly? I'm not," John stabbed his crumbly eggs into tiny pieces. "But I'm sure. I need to try it again."

Rodney just looked at John for a long moment, crooked frown slanting across his face. He wanted to tell John it was ok; he didn't have to do it. But a larger part of him was incredibly excited to get this chance again, and Rodney felt guilty for that. Over the past few months, he had greatly enjoyed the time he spent with John. He liked the other man _a lot._ Rodney did not want to see John in pain, but he desperately wanted a shot at finding Atlantis.

"Okay," Rodney finally said. "If it’s what you really want, we can try again."

"When works for you?"

"Give me a couple hours to get some things together," Rodney paused, looking at his watch. "Say around ten?"

"All right, sounds good," John agreed, and started eating instead of just playing with his food.

Rodney did the same but couldn't kick the feelings of doubt he had about John using the control chair again. Couldn't help but think it wasn't worth the risk. That potentially putting John through the trauma of it, was not worth finding Atlantis. Rodney nearly choked on his coffee as he realized just how bad he had it for John. 

\-----

Rodney fiddled with one of his sensors, making some final adjustments to how it was integrated with the chair. He rechecked his laptop for a third time, making sure the programs were all ready to go. If this worked, he was about to make the biggest discovery since they had found the outpost, and he wanted to capture every scrap of information he could. If it didn't work...

Well, if it didn't work and the chair hurt John again, Rodney didn't want it to be for nothing. He wanted to learn something, anything. It would feel like a disservice if John put himself through the pain, and they didn't even get anything out of it.

"Where is everyone? Elizabeth, Daniel?" John asked, as he entered the chair room.

"Oh, um, I thought you might be more comfortable if there were fewer people this time," Rodney explained. "Is that all right?"

"Yeah, I appreciate it. I'd rather it was just us," John admitted, looking away from Rodney to hide his blush. "I'm just surprised. This didn't seem like the kind of thing Dr. Weir and Daniel would want to miss."

"They were very understanding of it," Rodney lied. He was sure they would have been understanding of it, if he had told them what they were doing. Rodney watched as John walked up to the chair and just stood there, staring at it. He was so tempted to say "It’s okay you don’t have to. We'll find another way."

Instead, he switched on all his recording software and said, "Whenever you’re ready."

\-----

John stared down at the chair for a long moment, just taking deep, even breaths. He glanced over his shoulder to look at Rodney. The scientist was standing a way away with his equipment. John wanted to ask him to come closer. Wanted Rodney right there next to him. Not wanting to make things weird, John kept that thought to himself.

Rolling his shoulders, John forced some of the tension from his body. "Okay, you can do this," he said, and sat down.

The chair came to life instantly, and with it came the warm, welcoming feeling. John sighed—nearly groaned—at how good it felt. He shifted around a little, pressing his shoulders back against it, shifting his hips against the seat. It was better than he remembered. So much more intense than the connection with the music box. It almost felt like the chair was caressing him, tickling at the edges of his consciousness. 

"Don't rush. Just take all the time you need," Rodney was saying. His voice startled John, mainly because of how close it sounded, as if Rodney was right next to him. "Can you tell me what it feels like?"

"Feels...good,” John drawled, rolling his shoulders, and letting his head loll towards Rodney's voice.

"Like uh, pleasure?" the scientist asked, hesitantly.

John chuckled and opened his eyes. He had been right, Rodney was there next to him. "No. It’s just really comfortable." Rodney nodded, then just watched him. 

Looking towards the ceiling, John blinked slowly and thought of their solar system, and Earth's place in it. The hologram came to life above them, just as vibrant and detailed as the first time. John watched it for a moment, following the slow rotation of the planets in orbit. Then he closed his eyes and took several long, slow breaths.

_Atlantis?_ he thought.

\-----

Rodney stood next to the chair, anxiously watching John. He could tell the moment the other man tried to connect with the database. John’s body tensed up, his brow creasing deeply. "John?" he questioned softly. Rodney wanted to reach out and touch John's shoulder, smooth his fingers over John's brow, comfort him in some way; but he wasn't sure the touch would be welcome.

So, Rodney just stood and watched. Suddenly, John's body jerked violently, his muscles seizing up. Rodney bit his lip in sympathy as John clenched his jaw, hands gripping tightly at the armrests. "John, it’s okay. You're okay," Rodney said, hand hovering over the other man's shoulder.

John's head thrashed from side to side a little, and he growled an angry, distraught sound. Then suddenly, just like the first time, he was fleeing. Lurching out of the chair with just as much panic and desperation as the last time. Only this time, Rodney was there and ready.

As John lunged out of the seat and stumbled away from it, Rodney grabbed him by the biceps. "It’s okay. John, you’re okay!" he said, trying to steady him. 

John thrashed against the contact. "Don't touch me!" he shouted, and shoved at Rodney hard. The scientist huffed out a breath and staggered back a step. He wasn’t giving up that easily.

"John, you're safe," Rodney said, calm and firm. Thoughts of making things awkward between them forgotten, he grabbed John again, pulling the other man's back snug against his chest. John jerked his shoulders against the hug, letting out a disgruntled whine. "You're safe. You're safe. I've got you, John." Said man stopped struggling and Rodney hugged him a little tighter. "I've got you," Rodney said again, soft, right against John's neck. 

Without warning, John went lax against Rodney. The sudden dead weight caught Rodney by surprise and his knees gave out, dropping them to the floor. John was moving again, and Rodney held tight as he thought the other man was trying to run again. Then he realized that was not what John was doing. He was trying to turn around. 

Rodney relaxed his grip to accommodate the movement and John shifted around, burying his face against Rodney’s chest. He was trembling violently, and Rodney couldn’t help flinching when John’s prosthetic leg jerked, jamming the metal knee-joint painfully against his thigh. Shifting around a little, Rodney leaned back against the step leading up to the chair and moved his legs to frame John less awkwardly. John moved with him, face still smashed into Rodney's chest; his arms wrapped, almost painfully tight, around Rodney’s ribs.

Neither of them made any effort to move after they settled like that. Rodney idly ran his hands down John's back, muttering "You're safe" softly into John's hair. John was still trembling hard and it made Rodney’s heart clench. Worse was the way his damaged leg would jerk every so often, like pain was startling the muscle of John's thigh. 

Rodney felt terrible. He should have stopped this; he never should have let John use the chair again. It didn’t matter what they could learn from it. Seeing John in this much pain was not worth all the knowledge of the universe.

Rodney started to tremble a little himself, as he realized he didn't just have it bad, he was falling in love with John Sheppard.

\-----

"I tried the chair again," John opened with, as he sat down across from Kate. 

"Why?" the doctor asked simply.

"I wanted to. Before it hurts me, it feels good, comforting. I thought that maybe since I had been here for a while now, it might be different this time."

"And was it?"

John shook his head, thinking back to the full body experience that reliving the memories had been. "No. It was just as bad as the first time."

"What did it make you see and feel?" Kate prodded, gently.

"The same thing it did last time."

"John, we talked about this, remember. Verbalizing the memories that bother you can help you move past them, take them out of the focus of your mind," Kate explained.

Sighing, John rubbed a hand over the stubble on his face. "I saw the crash. The fire, my friends. Felt my leg being pinned. Smelled...gah! That's the worst part. The _smell._ You would think it’s the sounds and the sights, but...you have no idea how bad burning flesh smells." John shook his head, dropping it down to his hands and taking a few steadying breaths.

"Scent is one the things that imbeds memories the most strongly. It makes sense that that is what you remember the most," Kate paused, observing John's body language. While he looked uncomfortable, he didn't look nearly as rattled as he had the last time he had used the chair. "John, are you sure it was just as bad this time? You seem...calmer, less affected."

John looked up at her. "I had some help calming down afterwards, this time." He thought back to sitting with Rodney, curled against the other man on the floor of the chair room. Rodney had been warm and solid and had smelled faintly of metal and grease. John had lost track of time, as they sat like that. It had been nearly an hour later when Rodney had gently shaken him back to awareness and helped him stand. They had walked back to John's room in comfortable silence, the scientist hovering closer than normal at his back as they walked. John had wanted desperately to invite Rodney in; to ask him to lay with him in bed. Instead, he had just said thank you, and watched Rodney walk away. 

"What do you mean by that?" Kate asked, noting the almost happy look on John's face.

"Rodney was there with me. He, uh..." John petered off, unsure of how to explain what had happened without saying they had cuddled together.

"He comforted you," Kate filled in.

"Yeah," John agreed.

"Physically or emotionally?" she asked.

Blushing, John just nodded.

"Tell me about your relationship with Rodney."

"What's there to tell? We're friends." John shrugged and crossed his arms.

"Just friends? You let him comfort you after a great mental trauma. Do you realize he comes up rather often in our sessions?" John blinked at her. He had not realized that. "You talk about him a lot, without even being aware of it. How would you define your relationship?"

"Like I said, we're friends. Best friends," he added to pacify her. Kate just watched him, smiling softly. "Okay, I like him as more than a friend."

"And Rodney? How do you think he feels about you?"

"How should I know? We don't talk about that kind of stuff. It’s never come up." John slumped down in his chair, looking away from her. He wasn't comfortable with this line of questioning. 

"Yet he was willing to comfort you after the chair hurt you. What do you think that means?"

"It doesn't matter what it means!" John snapped. "Even if he likes me, so what? I'm not allowed to do that."

"Correction, you weren't allowed to do that." John blinked at her. "When you were a soldier you were restricted by regulations. You're a civilian now."

"I—yeah, I guess that's true," John said, slowly. For some reason he hadn't realized that.

"Have you ever been in a relationship with a man before?" Kate asked.

John felt his face heat up. "Yeah, I've been with guys before," he admitted softly, looking away from her. 

"That's not what I asked," Kate pointed out. "There is a difference between having relations with a man and being in a relationship with one."

"Okay, no, I guess not then," John said, with a shrug.

"Why not?"

"Like I said, I'm not allowed to. I mean...I wasn't allowed to," John corrected himself.

"You've been out of the military for over three years, and yet you still hold onto the idea that you are not allowed to express your sexuality without consequences. Why do you think that is? Do you think you might feel like you truly aren't allowed to?" John shrugged. Kate paused for a moment, then, "Do you think it has anything to do with your father?"

"Don't bring him into this," John said firmly.

"John," Kate said, with the tone John had learned meant she was about to unfold a part of his mind he hadn't even known existed. "Your father ingrained in you what a man was 'supposed' to be. I get the feeling part of that was not being homosexual. You went from one environment that shunned you, into another—the military. You've been a civilian for over three years and living away from your father, but you still can't let yourself be happy as who you are. Why?"

"I—I don't know," John admitted, fidgeting, and not looking at her.

"Do you think it's possible that you have let the views and opinions of others influence you so strongly, that—on a subconscious level—you feel you are not allowed to be happy and in a relationship with a man? That you couldn't be happy with Rodney?" John did look at her now. "Because you could be happy with him, don't you think so?"

"I…could...maybe."

"And you are allowed to be happy," Kate said firmly, locking eyes with him. 

John held her gaze a moment, then stood. "I'm done for the night," he said, and headed for the door.

\-----

Upon entering his room, John went straight to the bed and flopped down. Staring up at the ceiling, he frowned. Of course he was allowed to be happy. He knew that. So what if he hadn't even considered the fact that he was allowed to actually date men now. So what if that idea had been foreign and dangerous long before he joined the military. That didn't mean he was trying to keep himself from being happy. He could be happy if he wanted to.

Shaking his head, John reached over and turned on the musical egg. Relaxing into the bed, John closed his eyes. He was fine. He would be fine. He could be as happy as he wanted, and it did not have to involve a relationship with a man. With Rodney.

The tone of the music shifted to a low steady thrum, just like it had when he had watched Rodney working in the lab.

He could be happy with Rodney...if the other man wanted him. Did he, maybe? Rodney hadn't objected to the cuddling, hadn't pushed him away. Heck the scientist had sat there holding him for nearly an hour. He hadn't had to do that. John smiled at the memory, the solid feeling of Rodney's chest against his cheek, still fresh in his mind. As was the feeling of Rodney running his hands down over his back in calming, firm passes. It was a pleasant enough memory to chase the horrible memories of his accident to the back of his head. 

On the bed side table, the music box was vibrating with a deep base that John could nearly feel. 

Looking over at it he blinked, then smiled. He could be as happy as he wanted. Right? Right. That didn't have to involve a relationship with a man, with Rodney....but that didn't mean it couldn't.

Standing up, he turned the music box off and left his room. 

\-----

Rodney sighed and flipped another page in his _Scientific America_. He was nearly halfway through it, but couldn't remember a word he had read from any of its low brow articles. He should have asked if John would be all right alone, before leaving him. Maybe he should have offered to stay, he wasn't sure. Rodney hadn't really been sure what to do when he left John at his room. He had wanted to stay and make sure John was really okay, but he couldn't tell what John had wanted. 

John had hardly said two words to him after they had settled together on the floor. Maybe he had been embarrassed or felt ashamed for acting the way he did. Rodney hadn’t wanted to make it worse by inviting himself into the other man's room, or putting him on the spot about how intimate things had gotten. 

For his part, Rodney would have been happy to spend the rest of the day curled up with John on the floor of the chair room, but he had enough sense to know that was not appropriate. They were lucky no one had walked in and found them. The only reason Rodney had made them leave was because John had been falling asleep on him, and Rodney had been hungry to the point that he had felt his blood sugar plummeting. Those seemed like stupid reasons to have moved now. 

Dropping his magazine to the floor, Rodney rolled over and buried his face in his mattress. Maybe he should go check on John? Would that seem clingy or entitled? 

There was a knock at his door and Rodney looked over at it in confusion. No one ever sought him out in his room. Going to answer it, Rodney was both shocked and gleeful to see John on the other side. Despite telling John where his quarters were that first night, the other man had never stopped by. "John, hey. How are you feeling?" he asked, and stepped back a way, making room for John to enter if he wanted.

John stood there looking down at the line where hallway met Rodney's room. "I'm feeling all right," he finally said, and stepped into the room. The door slid shut behind him automatically, and he flinched a little, glancing over his shoulder at it. 

"Good, I’m glad to hear that. Look, I’m sorry about what happened, you know, the chair," Rodney waved a finger in a little loop towards his own temple. 

"It’s not your fault that thing wants to torture me. I had thought maybe it would be okay this time because I’m more used to interacting with the Ancient tech, but I guess not." Rodney nodded; he had been hoping for the same thing. "Anyway, it, uh, wasn't as bad this time."

"It wasn't? You seemed so shaken up by it," Rodney said, confused. If what had happened this time hadn't been as bad as the first time, Rodney felt terribly sorry for John. He had seemed so hurt this morning. Rodney didn't even want to know how he had handled the aftermath all alone the first time, if it had been worse. 

"I mean, what the chair did was just as bad as the first time, but...after was easier." John glanced away from Rodney, blushing a little.

"Oh," Rodney said, knowing he was blushing just as badly. "So that, uh, helped? You didn't mind?"

John nodded, biting at his lower lip nervously. "Yeah, it helped, and no I didn't mind. I—Rodney," John locked eyes with the other man, but didn't continue talking. 

Rodney felt his face heat even more. The way John was looking at him made butterflies swirl in his stomach, and, God, if that didn't make Rodney feel like a complete fool. "Well, I’m glad I could help, and if you ever need help again, I would be happy to...that's not to imply that you _do_ need help. Because, like you said, you’re fine, and it’s not like I think you are crazy or something, just because you freaked out...Why did I say that? You're definitely _not_ crazy. I do not think that at all. It's totally understandable that you freaked out and—"

It took Rodney a moment to realize that the reason his awkward little rant had been cut off, was because John was kissing him. The other man had cupped a hand around the back of Rodney's neck and tugged him forward, sealing their lips together. Simple and close mouthed. Rodney hummed a little in both surprise and pleasure. Pressing forward, he leaned up a bit, tipping his chin towards John and returning the pressure. 

John broke the kiss and licked his lips, just looking at him, hand still on the back of Rodney's neck, fingers tracing the hairs at the base of his neck. "So, uh, you want to watch a movie or something?" he asked, dropping his hand away slowly, fingers grazing Rodney’s jaw as he did.

Rodney blinked rapidly, trying to make his brain start working again. "Yeah, yes, sure. We can do that," he said, a little rushed. John smiled at him and walked past him to move into the open space of the room. 

"What you got?" he asked, putting his hands in his pockets, and shrugging.

"I have all three original Star Wars, oh, and the original War of the Worlds!" Rodney said, grabbing his laptop and starting it up. He set the computer on the bed and pulled out the bottom drawer of his desk where he housed his little collection of movies.

John flinched at the titles Rodney listed. "Uh, maybe something with less...action? I'm still a bit jittery and, well the explosions, kind of…," he drifted off when Rodney looked over at him.

"Oh, duh. I'm sorry, I didn't even think of that," Rodney said, frowning. Going back to sorting through the DVDs, he scolded himself mentally for being so insensitive. 'I know you just relived getting blown up, so how about we watch something where other people get blown up?' God he could be an idiot. "Okay, how about this?" Rodney suggested, tossing a movie to John.

"The Princess Bride?" John said skeptically, raising an eyebrow at Rodney. "I know I said less action, but seriously? I'm not a little girl, Rodney."

"Hey, that is a cult classic. Don't tell me you've never seen it," Rodney defended, taking the case from John, and popping the disk into his computer. "It's super funny."

"I know it is. I have seen it," John said, and couldn’t help smiling. "So, uh...where are we sitting?"

"Oh." Rodney stood there holding his laptop, and glanced around the room. He didn't have a couch. The desk and little table that came with the room were loaded down with papers and random bits of electronics. He normally sat in bed when he watched movies. Would suggesting that be presumptuous? "I normally just sit in bed," he admitted, making it more of a statement than a suggestion.

John shrugged, "Works for me." He sat down, shifting around until he was comfortable against the headboard, commandeering one of Rodney's pillows for behind his back. "Are you going to stand?"

In answer, Rodney sat down next to him, snagging the remaining pillow for behind his own back. He balanced the laptop on his legs, angling the screen so John could see. The bed was narrow, and they were a little squished together, but Rodney didn't mind. As he hit play and the opening sequence started up, Rodney tried very hard not to think about how strange it felt to feel the hard plastic of John's prosthesis against his thigh. About how where their calves should have been touching, there was nothing making contact with Rodney's leg. 

Next to him, John chuckled, and Rodney looked up to see him smiling at the movie. So, it felt a little odd. Odd wasn't bad and John—John was very, very good. The movie played and they laughed and smiled, and by the time John had made his fifth 'Inconceivable!' joke, Rodney had forgotten that anything had ever felt odd about sitting next to him.

In fact, as the movie played, Rodney felt like it was more and more right to have John sitting in his bed. "John?" he asked, just as the big battle at the end was gearing up to start. 

"Yeah," John said, turning and smiling at him.

Rodney hesitated for a moment, then reached out and cupped the back of John's head, pulling him over and into a kiss. John made a small, surprised sound and kissed him back. Slow and unhurried, Rodney carded his fingers through John's hair and tilted his head a bit more. His other hand came to rest on John’s shoulder, fingers brushing the other man's neck. 

John made a happy sound at this and flicked his tongue softly against the line of Rodney's lips, then pulled back, just enough to bite gently at Rodney's bottom lip. It made Rodney gasp a little, and John snuck his tongue into his mouth. Both of them hummed at this and Rodney gladly let John control the kiss. John's hands were sure and strong on Rodney's body, one cupping Rodney’s jaw, thumb lazily brushing the line of bone there, the other gripping at the solid muscle of Rodney's bicep. 

It made Rodney shiver and he shifted closer to John, turning his body so they were facing each other a bit more. The laptop wobbled on his legs, threatening to fall to the floor, but neither of them really noticed. Rodney was lost in the way John felt against him. The warm, solid line of John's body against his side. The heat John's tongue was making pool in his groin. The way every touch of John’s hands against his face and chest made Rodney’s heart rate ratchet up another notch, and the feeling of longing in his chest increase right alongside it. 

One of Rodney's hands slid down over John's chest, nails scratching lightly against the muscle there, as he swept it lower. He teased over the lines of John's ribs, and John jerked against him in a way that highly suggested he was ticklish. Rodney smiled against John’s mouth at this and moved on, letting his hand fall down to John’s crotch. Rodney barely got the chance to run his fingers along the hard line of John’s erection before John was grabbing his hand. He didn't break the kiss but made a funny little sound and pulled Rodney's hand back up to above his waist.

Rodney just went with it, not complaining or trying again. If John wanted slow, he could do slow. The other man's mouth was the perfect combination of controlling and soft. Rodney was more than content to make out with John for the rest of the night—the next day, the next week—if that was what he wanted, that's what Rodney would do. 

A few minutes later and John was pulling back. Rodney let him go, after pulling him back for one last, firm, close mouthed kiss. They were both flushed, and Rodney could feel a slight discomfort on his chin where John’s stubble had chaffed him. Oh well, a little beard burn was worth it. John must have noticed too, because he brought up a hand and ran his thumb over the red patch of skin.

"Sorry about that," he said, and ducked in to kiss it better. "Guess I'll have to start shaving more often." 

Rodney didn't know how to respond to that, because it implied this would be happening again, frequently, and that idea had him a touch tongue tied. Instead, he looked to the laptop and frowned a little. The credits had finished rolling and the DVD had defaulted back to the main menu. "We missed the ending," he pouted. 

"Your fault, you started it," John teased, poking at Rodney's shoulder. "I, uh, should get back to my room," John said, and moved to stand up.

Rodney couldn't help but notice the bulge in John's pants. His arousal was obvious, just like Rodney knew his own was. He didn't say anything. "All right." Rodney stood and put the laptop on the desk, pausing to shove his hands in his pockets and readjust himself. When he turned back around, he got the feeling John had done the same thing. His cheeks were a touch pinker and his erection slightly less noticeable. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Yeah, I’ll stop by in the afternoon."

"Okay then. So, uh...goodnight," Rodney said, and again he felt awkward and unsure. He wanted to kiss John again before he left, but wasn't sure if that was okay, or would be too much. His mental debate must have shown on his face because John laughed lightheartedly and leaned in, kissing Rodney quickly one last time. 

"Good night, Rodney," he said, and swiped the door open to leave.


	8. Chapter 8

Rodney sat at his desk, humming to himself and drumming an up-beat rhythm against the desk with his fingers, watching numbers scroll by as his simulation ran. It was nothing monumental, just some standard testing on how to conserve more power for the base. Their Gen-two naquadah generators were starting to struggle a bit with the long-term use, but it was an easy enough fix. Normally he would be annoyed by having to do grunt work instead of working on his own research, but not today. Today it was fine. The cheap burnt coffee from the mess was fine. The constant chill surrounding them in the base was fine. The base could implode and that would be fine too.

"You seem to be in an awfully good mood today," Daniel commented from his work area. He twisted his face up a bit, giving Rodney an evaluating look. "What gives?"

Rodney looked over at him, smile on his face. "What do you mean?"

" _That_ ," Daniel emphasized, waving a hand in the direction of Rodney's face. "You are never in that good a mood. The only time I have ever seen you actually look this happy is when you had some big breakthrough. Research going well?"

"Oh, about the same. Results are playing out how I thought they would, and it is very exciting, but I am not telling you anything. You will have to wait until I finalize the results and give my presentation tomorrow," Rodney replied, his tone conversational instead of snide as it normally would have been.

Daniel narrowed his eyes at him. "Are you a Goa'uld? Because if you are, you’re failing miserably at pretending to be Rodney."

Rodney huffed at him and rolled his eyes. Turning back to his computer, he started up another simulation. "Am I not allowed to be happy?"

"Sure you are, you just never actually are," Daniel said, crossing his arms and studying the other man. "Get laid or something?" he joked, and was turning back to one of his books when Rodney hiccupped into his coffee, spilling it all over his keyboard. "Oh?"

"'Oh' what?" Rodney asked, tone now a touch short as he attempted to clean up his keyboard. "'Oh' nothing. Mind your own business."

"Who was it?" Daniel asked, coming over and leaning against Rodney's desk.

"What it was or wasn't is none of your business," Rodney said, glaring up at him. "Can't I just be in a good mood? Why did you have to ruin it? See, now I’m cranky again, happy?" 

Daniel studied Rodney for a moment. "You got a little." He rubbed his own chin lightly. "If I didn't know better, I’d say that was chafing."

Rodney couldn't help but reach up and run his fingers over the slightly agitated skin. It was barely noticeable really. If he didn't have such sensitive skin, it would have been gone already. "Get back on your side of the lab." Rodney made a shooing motion and turned back to his computer.

"Told you he liked you," Daniel said smugly, and walked away. 

Rodney was very tempted to throw something at the other man. Instead, he went back to work. Idly he ran his fingers over his chin again, then touched his lips lightly. He swore he could still taste John on them. It had been nearly a year since he had actually had sex with anyone, and it was strange, because it wasn't even the idea of sex that had Rodney excited. It was the idea of just being with John. Spending time with him and knowing the other man cared about him, that was the turn on. 

"Okay, if you keep smiling like that, I’m going to hurl," Daniel said, and Rodney frowned over at him and flipped him off. "Much better, thank you."

\-----

Daniel had no reason to worry over Rodney's happy mood because, come late evening, it had disappeared. John had never shown up in the lab. Rodney hadn't seen or heard from him all day and it felt very much like being stood up. Which was rather silly because John spending time with him in the lab was work, not a date, but still. John had said he would stop by and he hadn't, and Rodney was starting to second guess what had happened the night before. 

Maybe it had just been an impulse brought on by the emotional trauma, and John wasn't actually interested in him. Maybe he regretted it and was embarrassed by the whole thing. Maybe he didn't want to work with Rodney anymore. Groaning, Rodney dropped his head down to his desk and just sat there. It was late, he needed to go to bed. Clearly John was not stopping by.

"Hey, there you are." Or maybe he was. Rodney sat up, looking over to see John walking towards him. "I stopped by your place, but you weren't there. What are you still doing down here so late?" John asked.

"He's pouting because he got stood up," Daniel answered, peeking over the edge of a thick old book he was studying. 

John blushed and looked at Rodney. "I'm sorry I didn't stop by earlier. I was going to, after I got done helping Carson, but then I ran into Elizabeth. We started talking and I got pulled into helping her put together some drafts for 'civilian-military inauguration strategies', or something. She thought I would have good insight because, you know, I was military. Then the SGC called her for an update about it, and I got sucked into that meeting." John sighed and shrugged. "I wasn't trying to, uh, stand you up."

"It’s not like we had a date or anything. It was just work," Rodney said, feeling very silly for being so depressed about John not spending time with him. 

"Well, if you're done for the night, want to catch a movie?" 

"Actually, I need to turn in. I have that presentation tomorrow." Rodney frowned as he stood and collected a few things to take back with him. 

John nodded, looking a little pouty himself. "Walk you back, then?" Rodney nodded and they left together. 

The walk back to Rodney's room was companionable and quiet. Rodney felt as though John was hovering closer to him than he had before, and it was nice to feel the subtle brush of his arm and warmth of his body heat next to him. If he had been a teenager, Rodney would have reached out and grabbed John’s hand. As a grown man, that idea seemed silly, so he resisted the urge. 

"So, you told Daniel?" John asked, once they were standing outside Rodney's door. His brow was a bit pinched and he sounded a little annoyed.

Rodney swiped it open and stepped inside, John following him. "No! I didn't say anything. I was in a good mood this morning and he just figured it out," Rodney explained, setting his things down on the overburdened table in the kitchenette. 

John seemed instantly relieved. The whole ‘allowed to be out’ thing was still a new concept to him, and he wasn't sure how he felt about people knowing. "You must have been in a pretty good mood this morning for him to figure it out," John said, moving on from his annoyance.

"Yes, well...yes, I was," Rodney said, feeling a bit foolish. They hadn't even gotten past first base and he had been practically over the moon. 

John smiled at him and brought a hand up to rub at his jaw line. "I shaved this morning," he said casually.

"I can see that," Rodney said, eyes following the motion of John's hand. "You know, I don't have to go to bed _immediately_ , so if you wanted to hang out for a bit we could." 

John gave a small huff of laughter, the tips of his strangely cute ears going pink. Reaching for Rodney, he pulled him into a kiss. "Hanging out sounds good," he said, and brought their mouths back together. 

Rodney made a sound of agreement and gently steered John back towards the bed. Walking and kissing was not nearly as easy as TV and movies made it look. They stumbled a little, and Rodney stomped down on John’s foot on accident. "Sorry, sorry," he muttered, breaking the kiss.

John just gave him a confused look. "For what?" he asked, as if he hadn't even noticed Rodney crushing his toes. 

Rodney blinked for a moment, then shook his head as he realized it had been John’s left foot. "Nothing, never mind," he said, and sat down on the bed, tugging John to sit next to him. The other man gave him a funny look for a moment, then shrugged and kissed Rodney again. 

They wound up laid out with John on top, blanketing Rodney with his body. John petted at Rodney's chest, groped the muscles of his arms and pectorals. He discovered with a bit of delight that Rodney liked having his nipples touched. Raking his nails over them, through the material of Rodney's shirt, had the other man arching up against him, and John smiled against his jaw.

Rodney twisted a little, and recaptured John’s mouth, pushing his tongue in with a touch of bossy urgency. It made John moan and melt against him. Rodney could feel John’s erection against his thigh, and it made his own arousal throb with need. Sliding his hands over John's back, he pushed the other man's shirt up a bit, fingers dancing across the hot smooth skin of John’s back.

Mostly smooth skin. As Rodney's fingers grazed along the waistband of John’s pants, he felt it. Little indents and raised spots smattered over his left side. He made a curious little sound and slipped his fingers below John’s waist band, to touch and explore a bit more. 

"Don't," John gasped, voice a bit shaky. Rodney pulled his hand away and replaced it higher up on John’s back, now outside his shirt again. "I'm sorry," John said, ducking his head against Rodney’s neck.

"For what?" Rodney questioned, shifting to try and get a look at John's face. Rodney was smart enough to realize that what he had felt were scars. He hadn't thought anything of it, as he touched them. It didn't seem odd or out of place. It was just John's body and he wanted to feel it. The perfections, and imperfections. He hadn't stopped to think John might not want the imperfections acknowledged. "I'm the one who should be sorry. I didn't mean to—"

"No, it’s not you," John said quickly, looking at him. "It’s not you," he said again, and bent to kiss Rodney. After a few moments, he pulled away and sat up. "I should let you get some rest."

"This is restful," Rodney said, sitting up and tracing his fingers over John’s jaw. 

John smiled at him and huffed out a laugh. "Oh, really?" Rodney hummed and pulled John in to one last lazy kiss. "Good night, Rodney. I'll see you tomorrow."

"That's what you said last time," Rodney pointed out, faking hurt. 

"I'll be there with bells on," John joked, and Rodney smiled at him.

\-----

When Rodney's presentation rolled around the next day, John was there, sitting right next to the scientist. Elizabeth, Daniel, and Carson were also present, and it was being recorded, so a transmission could be sent to the SGC afterwards. Rodney looked down at his watch, counting as the seconds ticked by. Five minutes before the scheduled start time and he couldn't wait any longer.

"Okay," he said, standing up and tapping a few things on his laptop, bringing the screen on the wall behind him to life. "So, I’ve been doing some research the past couple months, about how the Ancient technology interacts with ATA carriers. We already knew that some people have a stronger manifestation of the gene than others do. It was assumed that the stronger the gene was, the easier it would be for someone to interact with Ancient technology, which was not an entirely wrong assumption. The best example of this is the control chair. While it was very difficult for a 'standard' gene carrier, like Dr. Beckett, to bring it online, it reacted to John instantly."

"Which is exactly what we thought would happen," Daniel butted in.

"Yes," Rodney said, giving him a mildly annoyed look. "But what we didn't expect to happen was for it to react to John in a completely different way than it did when Dr. Beckett used it. This raised some red flags for me. Dr. Beckett and John have both described feeling a presence, of sorts, when they use Ancient technology. This also made me start to wonder if we had missed something, the first time we looked at how the Ancient technology interacts with gene carriers. So, I took a closer look."

Rodney tapped at his laptop, and a chart covered in wavy lines appeared on the screen. "This is an image of the data we captured from the first time John sat in the control chair. These are all wavelengths on different frequencies. Energy readings the chair was giving off." He tapped the laptop again, and one of the wavelengths was highlighted. "This is the part that caught my attention."

"Looks like a gamma wave, on the same frequency that the human brain typically uses," Carson said, squinting at the screen.

"So, that is John interacting with the chair?" Elizabeth questioned.

"That is what I thought at first too, _but_ ," Rodney smiled and pointed at the screen, "this wavelength did not originate from John."

"What do you mean?" Elizabeth asked, looking intrigued. 

"It originated from the chair. This is the Ancient technology interacting with him, not the other way around."

"What do you mean ‘the technology is interacting with him’?" Daniel asked, with a look of confusion. 

"Remember how I mentioned that both Dr. Beckett and John said they felt something when they interacted with Ancient technology? I think," Rodney paused and smiled more widely, "I think the Ancient technology is sentient."

"What?"

"Seriously?"

"Not possible."

"Now hold on," Rodney defended, glaring around the table. "I'm not talking Replicator level intelligence, or anything. But I do think it is aware of who is interacting with it. Look at this." He pulled two new charts onto the screen. "These were my controls. I had both of them interact with a neutral device."

"The music box," John supplied, and Rodney nodded.

"See, here, the wave lengths are there but they are relatively weak. John’s reading is slightly stronger, but they are nearly identical. The device was connected to them but didn't seem all that—for lack of a better word—interested." Two new images appeared on the screen. "These are from medical devices in Dr. Beckett’s lab."

"The wave forms are a lot weaker on one of them," Daniel pointed out. 

"That is when John was interacting with it. The stronger one is from when Dr. Beckett was." Rodney paused and looked around at them excitedly. "When Carson tries to interact with Ancient technology that is say...a weapon, or we don’t know what it does, he has trouble making it work, right? _Why?_ He has the gene, in theory it shouldn't matter what it is, it should still work the same."

"Maybe because I don't want to play with your dangerous little toys," Carson said, defensively.

"That is exactly my point," Rodney said, wagging a finger at him. "You don't want to use it and in turn, the technology doesn't want to interact with you. But we give you medical equipment and—" Rodney snapped this fingers "—it works like that."

"Again, maybe because I’m a doctor," Carson said.

"You said to me yourself that you feel a stronger presence from medical equipment than you do from other Ancient technology." Carson nodded. "John, did you ever feel anything from the medical equipment."

"No, not really. Felt more from the music box than I did from that stuff."

"I never felt anything from the music box. Damn thing is annoying as heck, if you ask me," Carson said, crossing his arms.

"Right, there! What you just said! You didn't like the music box, so you didn't feel anything from it. John was interested in it, and he did. I think the Ancient technology can tell who is interacting with it and what their intentions are. So, it interacts back with you at a level that matches your interest."

"This is very fascinating, but what does it have to do with the control chair?" Elizabeth asked. Her hands were folded neatly in front of her, but her face gave away her intrigue and curiosity, eyes gleaming with it.

"Yeah, how does this explain why the chair was torturing me?" John asked, a touch skeptically.

"It wasn't torturing you." John's brow creased deeply. "Not intentionally, anyway. Okay, look." Rodney flipped to new images. 

"Carson and me," John said, pointing at them respectively.

"Yes, see how minimal the reading from Dr. Beckett is. Yours is practically off the charts. And you told me the chair reached out to you instantly, right?" 

John nodded. "Soon as I sat down, I could feel it. I had to try and find that feeling with the music box at first."

"At first?" Rodney questioned.

"Yeah, the more I used it, the easier and stronger it got."

"Like it got to know you and wanted more interaction?"

"Sort of? The styles of music it played started sounding closer to stuff I like and had listened to before.”

"It's learning. Why didn't you tell me it was doing that?" Rodney questioned, sounding hurt.

"I didn't know it was important," John defended, shrugging.

"Not important—"

"Gentlemen," Elizabeth said firmly, looking between them. Settling her gaze on Rodney she cocked an eyebrow. "Focus. The control chair?"

"Right, so. The control chair is the most complex piece of equipment we have. It's a direct link to the Ancient database of this outpost. It would serve to reason that it would have more of a, uh, ‘consciousness’ if you would, making it more interactive than simpler pieces of technology. I did some digging in the information we do have access to, and I found this." He pulled up a new image.

"Looks like when I used it," John said, sounding unimpressed.

"No, the wavelength is slightly different," Daniel said, leaning forward and looking closely at the screen. "That's an Ancient using it, isn't it?"

"Yes!" Rodney declared. "I found a log of times they had used the chair and managed to pull these readings out of it. The intensity is the same, but the actual wavelength the energy is running on is different." 

"That would make sense," Carson said. "They were slightly different from us, on a biological level. It would stand to reason that their brains may have run on different wavelengths."

"I still don't see how this explains the chair torturing me," John said, waving at the screen.

"Again, not torturing you on purpose," Rodney huffed. "My theory is, that the chair is trying to figure out what, or who you are." Rodney pointed between the two images on the screen. "It knows you aren't an Ancient, so my guess is that it wants to find out who you are, before letting you have access to the Ancient database."

"And it’s doing that by making me relive the worst moment of my life?" John huffed, shaking his head.

"For a reason," Rodney said, pointing at John. Then he shifted his gaze around the table at everyone. "When someone asks you who you are, what do you tell them? You don’t just rattle off every little thing that has ever happened to you."

"Broad strokes," Elizabeth said, with a nod. "You hit the high points, the important things."

"The things that make you, you." Rodney said. 

"Core memories," Carson said.

"Exactly." Rodney looked back to John. "Your most recent core memory is your combat injury, that is why it's making you relive it."

"And you think it’s trying to work its way back through my other core memories for this little background check?"

"That's my working theory, yes. But we won't know if that’s right, unless..."

"Unless I can stay in the chair long enough for it to move past it," John filled in, with a heavy sigh. 

"This is very interesting Dr. McKay, nice work. I think it warrants more investigation. Keep taking readings and see what else you can find," Elizabeth said, with a pleased smile. "John, I know it probably seems like there is a lot of pressure on you here, to gain access to the database, but no one is going to force you into using the chair again. Having to go through what it did to you once was bad enough—"

"Twice," John cut in.

"Excuse me?" Elizabeth questioned, looking confused, as did Daniel and Carson.

"I tried using it again earlier this week," John said, and looked over to Rodney. "You didn't tell them?"

"Well...I may have forgotten to mention it," Rodney said, sheepishly.

"And who's idea was it to try again?" Elizabeth asked, turning a sharp eye at Rodney.

"Mine!" John said quickly. "He didn't make me, I volunteered to."

She looked back at John and nodded. "And how did this second attempt go?"

"About the same as the first," John admitted, looking down at the table.

"Which is why I thought it might be better with fewer people present," Rodney added.

Elizabeth nodded in agreement. "I can understand that. In the future, however, I would like to at least know it is happening. Understood?" Rodney nodded and muttered a 'yes ma'am' under his breath. "All right, Dr. McKay. I want copies of all your findings on the subject, and I would like you to dedicate more time to understanding just how 'sentient' the Ancient technology is. If there is a way for us to improve how easy it is for us to work with it, I want to know." With that, and a curt nod from Elizabeth, the meeting came to an end. 

As they filed out, John fell into step next to Rodney. "That was some pretty cool stuff you discovered. You really think this place is alive, somehow?"

"Well, I don't know if 'alive' is the right word, but it is definitely more aware than we've been giving it credit for." Rodney shrugged and paused in his walking. "So, um...I was wondering," he started, sounding a touch nervous. "Do you want to have dinner tonight?"

John blinked at him and glanced at his watch. "Sure. It’s a little early. The mess doesn't open ‘til—"

"No, I meant at my place. In my room. I mean it would be the same food, but we could, I don’t know, watch a movie after or...something," Rodney cut in, face going red at the proposal. 

"Like, a real date?" John asked, smiling a little.

"Well," Rodney met John’s eye and the interest there made him less nervous. "Yes, a date. A real one." 

"Yeah, I’d," John paused and looked thoughtful for a moment. "Actually, I can't tonight, I have plans already."

"Oh, I see." Rodney took a small step back from him, feeling a bit crestfallen. Was John seeing someone else? Not like that wasn't possible, he was an attractive man.

"Yeah, I'm kind of seeing Dr. Heightmeyer this evening," John admitted, sounding a little embarrassed.

"Ah, Kate, she is...very pretty," Rodney said, trying not to sound overly disappointed. He should have guessed this thing with John was too good to be true. Suddenly John was laughing, and Rodney looked up to find him smiling widely.

"As a patient, you idiot." John punched Rodney lightly in the arm and shook his head. "How about we do dinner tomorrow?"

"Oh, of course," Rodney said, smacking his palm against his forehead. "Tomorrow would work great." 

"Okay, I’ll stop by around what, six work for you?"

"Yes, yes that would be great." Rodney couldn’t keep the smile from his face. "So, tomorrow at six, great. I have to," he jerked a thumb over his shoulder, "get this research sent out, so I’ll see you tomorrow. At six. At my place."

John chuckled and nodded. "Yes, Rodney it's date."

\-----

"Rodney asked me on a date," John said, as he squished one of the little stress balls from Kate's desk in his hand. 

"You say that like it’s a bad thing," Kate said, with a small smile. "This clarifies that he returns your feelings. That should be a good thing."

"I know he returns my feelings. We, uh, hung out after hours the last couple of days," John admitted, feeling his cheeks heat at the memory of Rodney pressed up against him. 

"Again, you said that like it’s a bad thing. Why?"

John shrugged and passed the squishy little ball back and forth between his hands. 

"I get the feeling Rodney is not the problem here. What is John?"

"No, it's not Rodney. Rodney is great," John sighed, looking at Kate. "It’s just...I think he wants to—to have sex." John paused, then before Kate could say it, added, "Yes I know, I said that like it's a bad thing."

"Is it?" Kate asked, and John shrugged. "Have you had intimacy issues before, John?"

"Okay, no, I do not have ‘intimacy’ issues. I might have gotten blow up, but everything still works, thank you," John said, a touch defensively.

"I didn't mean impotence," Kate clarified, with a tiny laugh. "I mean intimacy, getting close to someone."

"Oh…yeah, I’m not the best at that," John admitted.

"You already seem to have gotten quite close to Rodney emotionally, which is not easy for you. Why do you think, suddenly, now that there is a physical side to the closeness, you are struggling with it?" John shrugged, studying the ball he was still fidgeting with. "Have you been with anyone since your accident?"

John snorted. "Yeah, that was over three years ago, of course I have." He paused, and gave a little sigh. "Just, no one that...you know."

"No one that mattered?"

"Or that I would ever see again," John added, thinking back to all the awkward one night stands he'd had, since sustaining his combat injury.

"Why do you think that makes such a difference? Rodney knows you, you two mean something to each other. Shouldn't that make being physically close easier?"

"You would think so..." John paused and pressed his lips together. "I just... I don't want him to...to, you know." Kate just watched him, and John made himself finish the thought. "Look at me differently because of seeing me like that."

"Seeing you like what?" the doctor prodded him.

"You know what," John replied, throwing the soft little ball at her. She caught it easily and set it on her desk.

"Exposed? Vulnerable?" Kate filled in and John nodded. "Rodney knows what you've been through, he's already seen those things. Hasn't he?"

"The mental and physical parts of it are different," John said, and God he had been seeing Kate for too long, because that was way too touchy feely.

"He has seen the mental aspect of it, but not the physical," she said, with an understanding nod. "He knows about your injury. Has Rodney ever seen you without your prosthesis?"

"Once," John said, thinking back to that first encounter. It felt so long ago. He still remembered the shocked look on Rodney's face. The way his eyes had gone huge and flicked between John's thigh and his prosthesis. "He...we had just met, and it was a shock for him."

"How did it make you feel?"

"Uncomfortable. I don't like people seeing me without it," John admitted. He wished he had kept the stress ball, so he had something to do with his hands. He wrung them together instead.

"You mentioned once before that it made you angry when people saw you without it. Did you feel angry with him?"

"No, I felt..." John paused, and thought back to that. "Worried, I guess."

"About what? You had only just met, what was there to worry about?"

"Even when we first met, I thought we could be friends, and I was worried it would ruin that. That he would see me as this broken person and things wouldn't be normal between us."

Kate nodded along. "And did that happen?"

"No," John sighed, and smiled softly. "Things are normal between us. He doesn't treat me any different than anyone else, and you would be surprised how few people actually do that."

Kate hummed quietly. "You said you were afraid he would see you as 'broken'. That’s an interesting choice of words. Is that how you see yourself, broken?"

John looked down at his hands, twisting them together again. "I am," he said, softly. "I'm broken. My head's broken. My body's broken." He ran a palm over the smooth hard plastic covering his thigh. "What if—what if we get to that point and he realizes he can't actually handle it, that he doesn't want..." John drifted off, leaving the end of the sentence open, but obvious.

"You know, you were wrong, John," Kate started, voice soft and kind. “When you said that Rodney doesn't treat you any differently than anyone else." John looked up at her in confusion. "He already does. He is kind, and considerate, and caring, and respectful towards you. Those are things that—as someone who has worked around him for a while now—I can say he does not hand out easily to other people." 

John blinked at her and thought. He knew Rodney didn't have a lot of friends and wasn't on track to win any personality contests, but he had never seen the sour, cruel side of the man that others had talked about. Rodney never talked down to him, or yelled at him, or insulted him—unless it was in a joking manner—and John had assumed those rumors had been false accusations. 

"John," Kate said, drawing his attention back in. "I think you are not giving Rodney enough credit. He's seen you have breakdowns; he's seen you without the safety net of your prosthesis. And he has stayed with you as a caring friend. Do you really think getting closer to him physically, will change that?"

"I...no," John said, softly. Looking down at the floor, he paused for a long moment. "But what if it does?"

"And what if it doesn't? What is the greater risk, John? Risk getting hurt; or risk passing up the chance to be with someone that you love?"

John looked up at Kate quickly, eyes a touch wide. "I never said that."

Kate smiled at him, soft and kind. "You didn't have to."


	9. Chapter 9

John spent most of the next day avoiding Rodney. He knew it was silly and that it would raise questions with the other man, but he did it anyway. His reasoning was twofold: the date would be more special if they hadn't spent the whole day together, and he was nervous. Really nervous. Not just about the physical side of things anymore, either. After Kate's brilliant little insight into how deep him emotions really ran, John couldn't stop thinking about. He loved Rodney. When had that happened? How had it happened? 

So, instead of going to help Rodney in his lab, he hung out with Carson, and helped Elizabeth draft her proposals for how to better integrate the civilian and military sections of the Stargate program. It was boring and drab work that calmed his nerves because it nearly put him to sleep. By late afternoon, Elizabeth was thanking him and shooing him from her office. 

When John got back to his room, it was still over an hour until he was supposed to meet Rodney. He dug through his dresser for something to wear, debating his limited options. The clothes they had issued him were simple and utilitarian. Cargo pants in a variety of colors—gray, olive, tan—the shirts were just as blasé, plain colored t-shirts and long sleeves. He had managed to get ahold of a couple of pairs of jeans and a few button-down shirts, but nothing really nice. Suddenly John longed for the wardrobe he had left in California, which was ridiculous, because it had been nothing special. He felt foolish for being so worried about it. Even when he had gone out looking to get laid, he had never given much effort to his appearance, and he didn't see why it should matter now. Rodney knew what he had to wear, had a lot of the same things issued to him.

Shaking his head and deciding he needed to clear his mind, John went to run the bath, giving himself the stare down in the bathroom mirror and scolding himself. He was being stupid. Surely Rodney wasn't freaking out. What was there to freak out over?

\-----

"Why do I have so much crap!" Rodney said to himself, as he shoved yet another box of papers and electronics into his overstuffed tiny closet. Stepping back, the door beeped at him, signaling it wouldn't close. Growling, he kicked the box hard enough to cave in the side a little and wedge it more snuggly into the closet. The door slid shut, and he turned back to survey his room. It was clean, well, as clean as it was going to get. Bed made; desk still cluttered but organized; kitchenette and table clean, cleared, and set. He still had three crates of stuff—half-finished projects and pieces of equipment—stacked in one corner, but it looked far more inviting than it had two hours ago, when he had started cleaning. 

Checking his watch, Rodney took a deep breath. John would be over soon, and he really needed to stop freaking out. Logically it made no sense. John had been over the last couple nights. Things had gone just fine, why would tonight be any different? Rodney didn't know why John had avoided him all day, but Rodney was actually ok with that. Had he spent the day with John, he would have just grown more and more nervous. It had been a long time since Rodney had gone on a real date with anyone. The last few times had been casual flings, where dinner had been nothing more than a boring prerequisite to getting laid. That, Rodney thought, was not how he wanted the evening to go. 

Going over to the table, he fidgeted with the silverware, straightening it, and checking to make sure the food was still warm under the domes of the cloche. It was nothing overly special, but was a step up from what they were serving in the mess hall that night. It had taken half his personal supply of coffee, and the promise of unquestioned grunt work on the cooks’ personal computers, to get them to agree to make something real for him. Five star it was not, but he had to give them credit for turning what would have been sad chicken tenders, into an amazing smelling chicken parmesan. 

There was a knock at the door and Rodney nearly jumped out of his skin. Taking a moment to breathe deeply, he went to answer the door. "Hey, come in," he greeted, stepping aside to let John enter. The other man looked nice in faded jeans and a black and gray checked flannel. Suddenly, Rodney felt over dressed in his slacks and plum button down. 

John smiled at him, his eyes running over Rodney’s clothing. "You clean up pretty dang good, Rodney," he said, tone somehow both joking and sincere. 

The comment made Rodney blush, and he directed John to the table. "Sit, we should eat before it gets cold," he said, and then went to the kitchenette.

John did as instructed, and his eyes widened when he removed the cloche from his plate. "Thought you said it would be the same food they had in the mess? If they've been serving this, I’ve been missing out."

"I might have pulled a few strings," Rodney admitted, returning to the table with a bottle of wine. He poured them both a healthy glass, then set it back on the counter. 

"And wine," John said, raising an eyebrow and picking up his glass. He toasted it towards the other man and Rodney returned the gesture. They started eating in a somewhat awkward silence, neither seeming to know how they were supposed to be acting. 

Finally, Rodney huffed and set down his fork. "Okay, this is stupid," he said, crossing his arms and looking across the table at John. The other man looked back at him, a touch wide-eyed. "We hang out all the time, this shouldn't feel so weird." 

"I'm not good at this stuff," John admitted, twirling his fork against the pasta on his plate. 

"Neither am I...this was a stupid idea. We should have just watched another movie or something simple." Rodney sighed and downed his wine.

"How do you have so many movies, anyway? You have a bunch of personal stuff here," John said, gesturing to Rodney's clothes and a few of the Sci-fi trinkets on shelves around them. 

"Well, I’ve been here a lot longer than you, for one," Rodney started. "My sister sent me most of it, care packages and stuff."

"We can get care packages?" 

"Sent to McMurdo, yeah," Rodney frowned. "No one told you that?"

"No! My room is practically a hotel! I have nothing other than what they issued me," John complained with a frown.

"You've been here for months, why didn't you say anything?" Rodney asked, with a laugh.

John just shrugged and laughed a little himself. "Guess I’m kind of oblivious sometimes... Your sister, you've mentioned her a couple times before. You guys close?"

Rodney frowned a little. "Not as close as we could be. I try to keep in touch when I can, but it’s hard. I've been working for the government on top level clearance stuff for years so..." He shrugged.

"She nice?"

"Depends on your definition of nice," Rodney snorted. "When we were kids, she was always doing stuff to get us in trouble and then blaming me. Oh, and once she abandoned me in a hedge maze just because I got a little lost."

"You got lost in a hedge maze? Those things are simple," John laughed.

"Yes, well I was being chased by a bee." John laughed harder. "A very persistent bee thank you!"

After that, it didn't feel awkward anymore.

\-----

After dinner, John exited the restroom to find Rodney tidying up. Dishes neatly stacked in the sink; table wiped down. "So, movie?" the scientist asked, handing him a fresh glass of wine.

"Yeah, sure," John said, and sipped his drink, as Rodney went to sort through the options. 

"Okay, so, I had a couple in mind for tonight," he was saying, as he rifled through the DVDs.

John hummed and watched him move. Observed how nicely his shirt stretched across his back. The dark purple was a good color on him. It made his eyes look dark and sexy, something that had been driving John a little crazy all night. Taking a deep swallow of his wine, he set the glass down and walked up behind Rodney. "You know, I would be up for skipping the movie, if you are," he said, reaching out to slide his hands across Rodney's shoulders.

John felt Rodney tense briefly at the initial contact, then relax under his hands. "Yeah?" he asked, turning to face John.

In lieu of saying anything, John cupped Rodney’s face in his hands and kissed him. The scientist circled his arms around John's waist and kissed back, opening his mouth to John without needing to be prodded. This made John groan softly, and he took the invitation, enjoying the lingering tang of wine on their tongues. "Want to sit down?" John asked, lips brushing Rodney’s as he spoke.

Nodding, Rodney pulled the other man to the bed where they sat together and resumed making out. They were getting good at it. Learning what the other liked, what places made each other shiver or moan. John had learned that for Rodney, these things included tugging at his lower lip, and scraping his nails across the soft skin at the base of his neck. Rodney, in turn, discovered John liked the action to take place in his mouth, and controlling the kiss with his tongue in the other man’s mouth made John moan, and melt a little. 

Pulling away from the kiss, John watched Rodney for a moment, taking in the flush high on his cheeks and the way his pupils had gone wide. It made his eyes look even darker and it was an attractive look on him. Reaching for his own shirt, John started undoing the buttons. As he opened it, revealing body hair, he saw Rodney lick his lips and it made John smile. "Like what you see?" he joked, with a horrible wiggle of his eyebrows. 

"Very much," Rodney answered. Reaching out, he ran his hand down John’s chest, widening his palm against a pectoral, and enjoying the feel of hair and the peaked nipple under his touch. 

Humming at the contact, John shrugged his shirt off and reached for the buttons of Rodney's. The scientist drew his hand back and started at the bottom, meeting John in the middle. He discarded the garment, and John growled a little at all the pale enticing skin in front of him. Pressing back in, he kissed Rodney again, pulling him close and pressing their chests together. Rodney moaned at this, and his hands began to explore John’s body. 

Rodney ran his hands over John’s arms, squeezing the muscles of his biceps, then traveled to John's sides. He traced John’s ribs with feather light touches, and John jerked against him. "Ticklish," he breathed against Rodney's lips. Rodney responded by making the touches firmer, nails leaving little red lines over the ribbed muscle. John shivered at that and kissed Rodney harder, his own hands gripping tighter where they were exploring the muscle of Rodney's back. 

Rodney moved his hands lower, over the muscle and hair of John's stomach. He hummed at the feeling of it under his fingers and swept one of his hands down further. It landed on John’s left thigh, fingers briefly clenching against the hard plastic of John's prosthesis. Rodney jerked his hand back quickly, replacing it on John’s hip. 

John went tense and broke off the kiss. Moving back a little, he looked down between them to his thigh, and where Rodney's hand was now resting on his hip. He knew it. He knew this would happen.

"Sorry," Rodney said, sliding his hand up from John's hip, over his side. John remained tense and Rodney let his hand fall away.

"It's ok, I, uh—I get it," John said, swallowing against the lump in his throat. 

"I don't care," Rodney blurted out in a rush, and John looked up at him. "That you," he made a little wavy motion down towards their legs. "I know I didn’t react the best that first time, but I don't think it’s weird or anything, and it doesn’t bother me, it’s just that...well, it seemed to bother you," Rodney explained, and John crinkled his brow a little. "Before, when I touched the scars," Rodney added, and looked away from John briefly. "I don't want to upset you or make you uncomfortable. This is new to me and I don't know what’s okay, what I’m allowed to do." 

John just looked at the other man for a moment, caught a little off guard. He hadn't thought of it that way. Rodney wasn’t put off; he was trying to be courteous. "Scoot back," John said, pushing lightly at Rodney's chest. He did as asked and moved away a bit. Bending down, John pulled off his right shoe and sock. Then hesitating for only a moment, pulled off his left shoe, revealing his false foot. Not looking over at Rodney, he stood and undid his pants, pushing them down past his hips, before sitting back down. Then he began the somewhat tedious task of removing them, threading the pant leg down and off his prosthesis. 

Looking back up at Rodney, John wasn't surprised to find that his eyes had been drawn down to the false limb. It was odd though, because there were none of the emotions John normally associated with that kind of look. No pity, or shock, or thinly veiled discomfort. Rodney was looking at it with calculation… curiosity, almost. A hand on his shoulder startled John a little, and he blinked, realizing Rodney was looking at his face again. He reached out and cupped John’s jaw. John leaned into the touch and Rodney met him for the kiss.

They picked up where they had left off, and Rodney's hands roamed again. This time, when one of his hands fell to John's thigh, he didn’t pull it back. Fingers skirting over the smooth plastic, up to brush the crease where thigh met groin, fingertips grazing the material of John’s briefs. John groaned at the teasing touch, and his own hands went to the front of Rodney's slacks, tugging until the button and zipper came undone. 

Rodney broke away then and stood up. Toeing off his loafers and socks, before stripping off the slacks. John did his own bit of staring then. The fly of Rodney's boxers was gaping open, showing a tantalizing strip of the hot flesh beneath. John made a deep sound in his throat and pulled Rodney back to the bed by his hips. They kissed again and John made first contact this time, hand sliding down to grope Rodney’s shaft through the thin cotton of his boxers. Rodney moaned into John’s mouth and shifted to face John more. 

Wide hands on John’s shoulders pushed him to lay back, and Rodney leaned down over him. Biting along John’s collar bone, Rodney kissed at his chest and down his stomach, as far as the position would let him. Rodney ran his hands down John’s sides, stroking over his hips and down to both thighs, before he curled his fingers into the crease of thigh and groin. John moaned and roll his hips up into the contact. 

Moving back up, Rodney kissed John’s mouth again before sitting up to look down at him. "What is more comfortable for you, on or off?" he asked. 

John flushed at the question. It was strange to have someone asking about it. In the past his bed partners had pretty much ignored his prosthesis and let John worry about it on his own. "Depends," he said, sitting up. "If I’m topping, I prefer on. If I’m on the bottom, off is better." 

Rodney nodded and raked his eyes over John's body. "Okay, so, on or off?" Rodney asked again, the double meaning to the question obvious. 

John held Rodney's eye and thought for a moment, then he sat up. John hesitated for a moment, just looking at his leg. Then reaching down, John pressed the little button that opened the one-way valve of the vacuum seal. There was a barely audible hiss, and John slide his fingers between the socket and his thigh to further break the seal, and popped the prosthesis off. 

“That’s it?” Rodney questioned, and John looked up at him, wide-eyed. He had just removed a literal piece of himself; revealing himself in a way that still made him feel vulnerable down to his core, and he got a 'that's it'?

"That's it?" He parroted back at Rodney, voice a little strained with a mix of emotion—embarrassment, fear, anger.

"I don’t know. I guess I was expecting it to be more complicated," Rodney explained, and reached out, taking the prosthesis from John's shock-loosened grip. "Oh, it’s lighter than I thought it would be."

"You've spent time thinking about it?" John asked, still unsure how he felt about the exchange.

"Well, yes," Rodney said, briefly looking down into the socket before turning his eyes to the knee joint, and tracing his fingers over the complexity of it. “ From an engineering standpoint, that is." John blinked and gaped at him a little, then started to tremble, shoulders shaking with contained laughter. "What?"

John shook his head and had to bite his lip, because the words 'I love you' were right on the tip of his tongue. Only Rodney would have spent time analyzing the prospect of how it worked. Not what it looked like, or what John's thigh looked like underneath. No, it was the engineering that had drawn his curiosity. Reaching over, John took it back from him and set it carefully aside. Leaning back on the bed, he laid down and tugged Rodney over the top of him. 

"Did I do something wrong?" Rodney was asking. John responded by kissing him again and sliding his hands down to Rodney's ass. Gripping it, he pulled Rodney against him and rolled his hips up. They both made wanton sounds at the contact. John repeated the action and Rodney matched him, rocking firmly against his body. 

Rodney's hands could not stay still, and they were traveling over John’s ribs again, strong, firm touches that made John shiver. Then Rodney was following said hands, sliding down John's body with kisses, until he got to the waist band of his underwear. Glancing up at John, he tugged them down and off. Rodney made a deep sound in his throat at the sight of John’s erection, hot and angry red with arousal. He palmed it for a moment before ducking to kiss across John’s stomach, inching down close to the base of his cock. John shivered and arched his hips towards the contact. Smiling, Rodney held his hips down.

Teasingly lightly, Rodney traced his tongue up John’s shaft, flicking it against the ridge of the head. John tried to arch up against Rodney’s hands, but the other man held him tight. Rodney repeated the teasing touch a couple more times, until John was trembling beneath his hands. Then Rodney took him in, mouth sliding down, firm and sure, over John’s cock. John moaned deeply at the hot contact, and the sound urged Rodney on. He sucked firmly at the head, before pulling off and applying firm sucking kisses along the shaft. 

John shifted, squirming under Rodney’s hands in pleasure. The movement caused Rodney’s fingers to graze along the sleeve still covering John’s thigh. Rodney paused, glancing up John’s body to meet his eyes. John read the question. "You can take it off," he said, soft and a touch shy. 

Rodney's fingers curled under it, and slowly and deliberately, he removed it, setting it aside with care. Then Rodney ducked down, kissing John's belly, while fingers lightly grazed over the newly exposed skin. John trembled at the contact because it was new and strange. Other than a few unsure and fleeting touches from one-night stands, the only people who had ever really touched his thigh were doctors and his physical therapist. The contact felt strangely intimate.

"I'm sorry, I can not, if you don't want me to," Rodney said, drawing his hand away and sitting up to look down at John’s face. 

"No, it's ok," John said, swallowing. As he watched, Rodney turned his eyes down to his thigh for the first time. John knew his stump was attractive—so to speak. The surgeon had done a brilliant job and the scar from the actual amputation was mostly smooth. The scars traveling over his thigh were not. Notched and dark in spots, from where shrapnel had peppered the outside of his thigh, around to the back of his hip and lower back. Rodney had felt them before and hadn't seemed bothered. He didn't seem bothered now, at the sight of it all, either.

"Does it hurt?" he asked, fingers lightly touching the scar at the end of the residual limb, and following the smattering of shrapnel scars upwards. 

"Sometimes," John admitted, and Rodney nodded and frowned slightly. And then…

That seemed to be the end of it, and Rodney was moving over him, ducking down to mouth his cock again. John groaned, not only from the sensation, but from the ani-climax of the exchange. It was an odd sense of relief to no longer fret over what Rodney's reaction would be. The pure and simple acceptance of it made John's heart ache. 

Grabbing a fist full of Rodney's hair, John tugged softly, directing Rodney back up to his mouth. John kissed him hard and demanding. "I want you to fuck me," he murmured against Rodney’s lips. Rodney groaned against his mouth before pulling back and standing from the bed. 

First, Rodney shucked his boxers, then, from the nightstand, he retrieved lube. He rummaged in the drawer for a moment longer, cursing under his breath. "I have condoms, I know I do," he said, handing the lube to John. "Uh, somewhere." Rodney walked over to his dresser and pulled open the top drawer, rooting around inside. "It's been a while since I’ve needed them," he muttered, glancing over his shoulder at John with a bashful smile.

John watched him search and smiled to himself. To anyone else, the scene would probably appear awkward and kill the moment. To John, it was sweet. Rodney bent to check another drawer and John hummed in thought. Maybe he had made the wrong choice in bottoming, because Rodney had a _very_ cute ass. 

"Uh, if this is a deal breaker, we can rain check on the actual sex and just, you know." Rodney made a lewd, jerky hand gesture and John laughed at him, smiling.

"Oh, yeah?" John mocked, making a similar motion with his own hand. Rodney came back to the bed looking mildly disappointed. John bit his lip. "When I had my physical at McMurdo, they tested me for everything. I'm assuming they did the same to you?" Rodney nodded. "It’s only a deal breaker, if it is for you." 

"No, if you’re ok with it, I’m okay with it," Rodney said, and John handed the tube of lubricant to him. 

John spread his legs a little and Rodney settled between them. He slicked his hand and gently circled his fingers around John’s cock, stroking a few times before trailing his fingers down between John's cheeks. When he pressed in with the first finger, John hissed a little, shifting his hips around. Rodney looked up at him questioningly and John shook his head. "I haven't for a while, either," he admitted. Rodney smiled up at him, looking almost happy to hear that.

The first finger stung, but Rodney took his time, pressing into John’s body slowly several times before really moving it, crooking the digit in search of John’s prostate. John shivered and let out a breathy sigh when he found it, pressing down against Rodney’s finger in a request for more contact. Rodney gave it to him, grazing the bundle of nerves every time he pressed in. When he added a second finger, John had to bite his lip to keep from making a pained sound. Rodney had large fingers and it burned. Rodney also had very skilled fingers, and as they danced across his prostate John forgot the painful background ache. Rodney worked him open with two fingers until he could handle a third, and by then John was crying out, but not with discomfort. 

"Come on, come on, Rodney, that's enough, I’m okay," John said, reaching up to cup the back of Rodney's neck and pull him into a kiss. Rodney hummed against his mouth, nodding as he pulled back.

"Okay, all right, I’m good with that. Very, very good," Rodney said, voice rough with desire. John smiled up at him and made a small little sound of disappointment as Rodney removed his fingers. John followed the motion of Rodney’s hand as he slicked lubricant over his shaft. "Could you move, this way?" Rodney asked, grabbing John's hip and rolling him more onto his side. John moved as directed, laying on his left side. Rodney moved in close to him, straddling John’s left thigh, and moving his right leg to hook over his shoulder. "Is this ok?"

"It will be, once you stop stalling and actually get inside me," John teased, smirking up at the other man. 

Rodney huffed at him and pressed forward until he was threatening to breach John's body. John was the one who made that final move, shifting and pressing back against Rodney until the thick head of his cock was inside. Rodney made a shaky sound and hung his head, cheek resting against John's leg. After a few beats of just breathing, Rodney pressed in the rest of the way, and John couldn't keep a moan from slipping past his lips at the full entry. 

It felt amazing. Rodney, hot and hard inside of him, his solid body pressing against him. John groaned and reached out with one hand, clawing at Rodney's hip in an effort to make him move. Rodney took the hint and slid out minutely before pressing back in firmly. "Good," John gasped, gripping harder at Rodney’s hip. The other man took the encouragement and increased his motion, shifting to drawn out rocks that had the head of his cock dragging deliciously over John’s prostate. "Oh, good," John gasped again, wiggling his hips in an effort to get closer.

"Yes, good. Very good," Rodney panted at him. He wrapped his arms around John’s leg, holding it tight against him and pressing in again and again, rocking John against the mattress with the force of the movements. John was making sexy sounds under him, and Rodney shuddered. It felt fantastic, but the position didn’t allow him to touch John as much as he would like. Stopping for a moment, he removed John’s leg from his shoulder, and—still keeping John on his side— bent John's knee up towards his stomach. "This all right?" he asked, and pressed in again, able to get a fair bit deeper than he had before.

John just moaned and nodded. He hooked one of his arms under his knee, holding his leg up tight against his body. Rodney made a deep sound at this and leaned down, hands planted on either side of John’s body. John turned his face up towards him and Rodney was there, capturing his mouth in a hot passionate kiss. Rodney’s thrusts grew shorter but stronger, and John trembled from the onslaught of sensation. "Rodney," John gasped, as the scientist moved his mouth along his jaw, kissing and sucking hard. One firm bite and suck had John shouting loudly, as Rodney worked what John was sure would be a brilliant hickey into his shoulder.

It was a little awkward, but John managed to get his free hand down to wrap around his cock. His strokes were sloppy, and the angle of the grip hurt his wrist a little, but it was good enough. Above him, Rodney groaned, and John saw his eyes following the line of his arm where it disappeared behind his leg. "Make me cum," John asked, voice a little deeper than normal. 

"God, yes," Rodney panted back, and thrust a touch harder, faster. It didn’t take much more to get John there, and a few moments later he was clamping down around Rodney’s shaft and shooting over his hand and the mattress. Rodney stilled momentarily with the tightness, just enjoying the pleasure of John tightening around him. Once John started to relax, Rodney started thrusting again. He pressed against John a handful more times before finishing himself, making a broken sound and hanging his head down against John’s shoulder as he came. 

John released his leg, stretching it out around Rodney. The other man pulled out of him but didn't move away, other than that. "That was great," he panted against John’s shoulder. "It was for you, right? Because it definitely was for me."

Huffing a breathless laugh, John rolled over, so he was facing Rodney. "Yeah, yeah, it was,” he said, and kissed the other man again. "Can I stay over?"

Rodney ran a hand down John’s side and stretched out on the bed next to him, so close their foreheads were touching. "I would be perfectly happy if you never left," he admitted, face heating. John grinned and wrapped his leg over Rodney's hip, closing what little space was left between them.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Couldn't wait and had to post the last chapter!
> 
> Want to give one more huge thanks to [Ani272](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ani272/pseuds/Ani272) for beta/proof reading this for me. It is so appreciated!

_Hot, everything was so hot. And bright and loud. His ears were ringing, and his sinuses were screaming with the noxious smell of fuel and metal and flesh._

_"Sheppard! Sheppard!"_

_He needed to move. He needed to help his men. Why, why couldn’t he move! Pain, warm and oddly wet. What was that feeling?_

_"Sheppard!"_

_Hoarse and panicked now. He needed to get up, he had to help. Why couldn’t he? What was happening? There, he could see; he could see, but he couldn’t get to them. No! He had to. He couldn’t just lay here and watch!_

_"Sheppard! "Sheppard!_

"John!"

\-----

Rodney sat bolt upright, startled out of sleep by the sound of someone shouting. He looked around confused at first, then he saw John. His face was pinched up in anguish, the same way it had been when he had used the control chair. His body was twitching, thrashing. 

"No!" he shouted, voice panicked and cracking, and his body jerking violently. 

"John!" Rodney hissed, in a harsh whisper, but it did nothing. John shouted again, body trembling hard. "John!" Firmer this time, and he reached out, shaking the other man's shoulder.

"No!" John shouted, sitting up with a jerky flail. His elbow connected hard with Rodney's face in the process, sending the scientist tumbling out of the narrow bed to land gracelessly on the floor.

"Son of a bitch!" Rodney hissed, bringing up a hand to clutch at his nose. A steady flow of blood was trickling down his face, and Rodney grimaced as he pinched the bridge of his nose, tipping his head back. He groped around blindly until he found a discarded shirt and clutched it against his face. Standing up, he sat on the edge of the bed and glared over at John. The other man was sitting on his side of the bed, back to Rodney. His shoulders were heaving, body trembling. 

Taking a few deep breaths, Rodney stamped down his own anger at the situation. He wanted to reach out and comfort John, but was hesitant with how he had woken up. He sat watching, waiting for John to stop trembling and his nose to stop bleeding. The bleeding stopped first. Sniffling painfully, Rodney wiped at his face with the shirt a few times, cleaning it up as best he could, before tossing the ruined garment away. Shifting a little closer to John, he reached out, lightly stroking his fingers over one of his shoulders. "John?"

John flinched at the touch and sniffled loudly. "Sorry," he said, clearing his throat roughly.

"Don't be," Rodney said, moving closer and fully resting his hand on John's shoulder. "Are you—Is there anything I can do?" John shook his head and Rodney frowned. Remembering back to what John had said about them sitting together after using the chair, he reached out and pulled John back against his chest. John went stiff and tried to pull away, but Rodney shooshed him, wide, warm hands stroking over his arms. "You're safe here." 

At first, nothing, then, after a few tense moments, John turned, pressing his face against Rodney’s bare chest. Then he pulled back, hand going up to his face. When it came away bloody, he looked up at Rodney and gaped. "Oh, God, your face." He could hardly see in the dark of the room but knew the dark smudges were blood. "How hard did I hit you?"

"It's okay," Rodney said.

"No, it’s not!" John protested, and suddenly the bedside light was turning on.

"Did you do that?" Rodney asked in amazement, but John waved the question off, his hands going to Rodney's face, gently touching his nose. 

"At least it's not broken," he muttered, as Rodney flinched under his hands.

"It’s okay, really. I tried to wake you up. You didn’t mean to, it was an accident," Rodney explained. Before John could say anything else, Rodney was out of bed and heading for the bathroom. He returned a moment later with a wet washcloth, his face and chest clear of blood. "Here," Rodney said, reaching out to clean John’s face.

"I should go," John said, shooing away Rodney’s hand.

"No, stay, I want you to," Rodney protested, and set the cloth aside. Reaching out, he shut off the light and then tugged John down into the bed.

"I won't be able to sleep again tonight," John protested, but didn't try to move away from where his head was pillowed on Rodney's shoulder.

"I'll stay up with you then," Rodney said, arms wrapping snugly around John's body. John gave a deep sigh, and they stayed quiet for a long stretch. "Does this happen a lot?"

"Sometimes," John admitted. "This is the first time in a long time. I use the music box at night. It helps me sleep, keeps the bad dreams away, somehow." Above him Rodney nodded and was quiet.

If he were honest, Rodney really wanted to know what had happened, what John had seen, but he knew he couldn't ask. If John didn't want to talk, that was fine, just cuddling was good. Very slowly, John relaxed in his arms, and Rodney was starting to think that he had drifted back to sleep. So it startled him when the other man spoke again. 

"You know what happened to me, right?" he asked, so quietly Rodney almost couldn’t make it out.

"I know your chopper went down. Your file didn't have a lot of details other than that," Rodney replied. John was quiet for another long stretch, before speaking again.

"I was bringing back a few men that had been stranded behind enemy lines, they were my guys, we had worked together for years. We were heading back when our chopper got shot down." His voice cracked a little and Rodney tightened his grip around him.

"It’s okay, you don't have to tell me," Rodney offered. Despite his own curiosity, he didn't want John to feel like he had to tell him. 

John continued as if he hadn't heard Rodney speak. "I got thrown from the cockpit, somehow, my leg was pinned and full of shrapnel. The bird caught fire when it crashed....my men were... " He was trembling again, nearly vibrating in Rodney's arms. "They were trapped inside, and I couldn’t—I couldn’t do anything. I was stuck. I saw—heard them—" His voice cracked and Rodney’s heart broke.

"Stop, stop," he hushed, and shifted John around until his face was pressed against his chest. John ducked his head against it, his hands gripping so hard at Rodney's shoulders, it hurt. "I'm sorry, John. That probably doesn't mean anything, but I am."

"You know what the worst part is?" John asked, voice hoarse and broken. "When the medics got there, they said I was lucky to be alive. That if my leg hadn't been pinned like it was, I would have bled out before they got there." He sniffled loudly, and Rodney could feel hot tears against his skin. "I was stuck there, watching my men burn to death, and I was the lucky one!" He was full out sobbing against Rodney's chest now, and Rodney felt tears pricking at his own eyes with the raw show of emotion. "I should have died in that crash; I would have been better off that way," John murmured softly.

"No," Rodney gasped, grabbing John’s shoulders and making the other man look at him. "No, John, God, please never say that again. If you had died I—"

"You what?" John snapped, batting Rodney’s hands away and moving out of his arms. "You never would have found your golden ticket to Atlantis? News flash! I'm not a golden ticket to anything! I’m broken!" John shouted at him, the overload of memories and emotion making him bitter.

Rodney’s stomach sank to his feet because, that had in fact, been exactly what he’d thought when he had first seen John’s file, but now… "No! Fuck Atlantis," Rodney said earnestly, his own voice breaking a little. "I don't care if we ever get there, I don't care if you never go anywhere near that damn chair again! If it makes you relive that, for even a moment, it’s not worth it, John! If you had died, I never...I never would have met you—I never..." Rodney drifted off, wiping at his eyes and looking away from John.

"You never, what?"

"I never would have—would have fallen in love with you." Rodney paused, and let out a shaky breath. "And I know I shouldn't have said that, and it’s crazy, because we've only known each other for a few months, and have only been dating a few days—if that’s what this even is, but I—"

John cut Rodney off with a kiss. Soft and wet, because both of them were crying. "If being in love already makes you crazy...than I am too." 

Rodney didn't say anything. He didn’t know what to say, neither did John. Wrapping his arms around the other man again, Rodney lay back down, and John went with him, face pressed tightly against Rodney's neck. "And John," Rodney finally said, after a long calm stretch of silence. Sleepy and only half awake, John just hummed against Rodney's neck. "You're not broken. You're just you." 

John’s eyes opened again, and he stared into the darkness of the room. This time, when he started to tremble, the sobs were not from anger or sadness. They were from happiness.

\----- 

It was strange how normal the next couple weeks felt. Rodney had expected there to be some kind of shift between him and John after that night, but no. They worked together, ate together, and after hours they started spending time in John’s room. This was so, in case they wanted to spend the night together, John had the music box to help him sleep. That, and they discovered that yes, you could fit two people in John's bathtub. 

So maybe they wouldn't find Atlantis anytime soon. That was ok. They were still making scientific advances, and learning more and more about the Ancients and their way of life every day. Rodney would take that for the time being. As long as it meant that John was happy and here with him, Rodney was okay with that. The control chair could sit and collect dust, and maybe they would find a work around someday that would give them access to the database without it. There was an idea. 

Having come to terms with all of this, Rodney was more than a little surprised when John matched into the lab one afternoon and dragged him down to the chair room. All the equipment to record its use was already set up. Elizabeth, Daniel and Carson were all present. 

"John, what are you doing?" Rodney protested. "I told you, you don't have to do this again. We can find another way."

"Yes, Rodney, I remember what you said. I want to do it again," John said, taking a step towards the chair, only to have Rodney stop him with a hand on his wrist.

"John," he said, voice quiet and a little begging. "I can't watch you put yourself through that again."

John looked at Rodney, then glanced at the others who were all watching them. Grabbing Rodney’s coat sleeve, he tugged him to the edge of the room. "I can do this, Rodney, I know I can. I just...I want you there with me. If you are, I know I can do this."

"But, John—"

"You remember what I admitted to you that first night? How I thought I shouldn’t have —" he paused, and Rodney nodded, frowning deeply. "I’ve never admitted that to anyone before. I—you make me feel stronger than I actually am." Rodney just blinked at John, deeply touched and not sure how to respond.

"Gentlemen?" Elizabeth asked, approaching them but keeping enough distance to give them privacy. "Are we going to make this happen?"

"Yeah," John said, grabbing Rodney’s arm he walked up to the control chair. 

"What am I supposed to do?" Rodney asked, as John sat down and the hologram of their solar system appeared above them. 

"Just be here."

\-----

John watched the hologram of the solar system for a brief moment before shutting his eyes and focusing. He felt the chair for a moment, took the time to coexist with its consciousness, before seeking it out. Rolling his shoulders back against the chair, he relaxed into the warmth of it inside his mind, welcoming and curious, around him. 

_Atlantis?_

He reached deeper into the consciousness of the chair and it pushed back into him, prying into his mind. This time the first memory it pulled out of him was pleasant and new.

_Crying into Rodney's chest. The other man holding him tightly. Admitting things he had always been too afraid to say out loud. He shouldn't have lived._

_The anger in Rodney's voice. The sincerity when he gave up on finding Atlantis and explained loving him. The overwhelming love the words "you're not broken" had made him feel._

Then the accident was back. 

_The explosion. Fire, blazing in front of him, close enough to scorch his skin. The stench. Chemicals of the chopper fuel, hot metal groaning in the heat, flesh._

John flinched and gritted his teeth. It was just as visceral as the first two times. Just as bone rattling and traumatic. He clutched at the armrests, felt the muscles of his body seize up with the need to flee. 

"You're ok, John." Rodney's hand on his shoulder was sure and firm as it stroked down his arm. “You’re safe.” John focused on that and let the memories flood him.

_"Sheppard!" His men in agony, begging for his help. The pain and numbness, and the disgusting, oozy feeling of his mangled leg pinned beneath the wreckage._

Suddenly it all shifted.

_His first deployment, a jungle dense and muggy. The enemy trying to commandeer his chopper. Gunfire. The first time John had gotten a confirmed kill in the field._

_He was smiling and happy, baby-faced and graduating from the academy. The first time he got to take an F-15 up on his own without a superior co-pilot._

_Being a teenager and kissing Chase Douglas behind the bleachers after a football game. The sense of rightness that had overwhelmed him. A rightness kissing girls had never made him feel._

_Sadness as his parents told him and his brother they were moving from Georgia to California, right before he started middle school. He had been so angry._

_Being six years old at the Georgia State Memorial Day festival. Looking up at the sky and feeling a sense of wonder and longing he had never known before, as he watched the Blue Angels break away overhead. The crack of their jets ringing in his ears and ingraining in him the lifelong need to fly._

Then there was nothing. No memories or probing inside his head, just warmth and comfort, and a sensation deep in his chest that felt like he was being hugged by an old friend that had missed him dearly. _Hello?_ John thought. There was no verbal response, but the feeling shifted around in his head. Coiled tighter in his chest.

_Atlantis?_ The feeling shifted again and grew warmer. For some reason, another word came to mind. _Home?_ This time the memories he was flooded with weren't his.

_Sapphire blue oceans as far as the eye could see, twinkling like stars under a huge orange sun. A city that defied all realms of imagination. Angular and beautiful. Tall spires and stained-glass windows reaching for the sky. Hallways aglow with blue lights and whimsical pillars of bubbles. A throne room with a chair, the sister of this one._

A deep sense of longing and rightness settled in his bones. "Home," John said softly, and around him, a collection of gasps sounded. Opening his eyes, John saw the hologram was shifting. Zooming out wide and moving in to focus on a planet a million light-years away. It was just a glimmering ball of blue energy displayed overhead, but that was... That was where he was supposed to be. 

"You did it," Rodney gasped, next to him. His hand was still on John's arm and it tightened almost painfully. “You did it, John. Are you getting this?" he questioned, turning to Daniel who was manning the recording equipment. 

"Oh, yeah," Daniel said, sounding awe struck. "We got it."

"John!" Rodney said, smiling down at him. 

John stood up and let the chair go dormant. He didn't even think as he grabbed Rodney and kissed him, full bodied and passionate. Rodney made a startled sound but wrapped his arms around him. John heard the gasps of surprise as well as an 'I knew it' from Daniel, but he didn't care about them seeing. He was happy.

He had found a family with these people, in this base. He had found a life he never could have dreamed of. He had found a home in a city he had never been to but yearned to walk the halls of. And it was all because he had taken a chance, trusted Rodney when he had asked him one simple question.

_“Want to find out how the story goes?”_ John had found his story and was living it. He had found a life, a love, himself, in Rodney.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well there it is, the end!  
> I had so much fun writing this and I really hope you all enjoyed it as well. Thank you to everyone that has left me feedback I love seeing what you all think about my work.  
> While I have no idea when it will happen I do have ideas for an epilogue, so that might pop up sometime in the future.
> 
> One last time, if you made it this far thank you for reading my story :)


End file.
